Suffering
by Ponytail Goddess
Summary: AU story told from Albus Severus' point of view. Over forty years after the Final Battle, Harry Potter's life isn't nearly as charming as everyone thought it would be. Something went wrong, gravely wrong... Will he ever be able to let it go?
1. Chapter 1: A Father's Suffering

Hi guys, welcome to Suffering! This is a fic in response to preposterous purple crocodiles' challenge "Snape in an Old Peoples' Home" at Potions and Snitches Fanfiction Archive and is a Challenge Fest 2009 entry there. Please enjoy my mayhem.

_A big thanks goes out to Obsidian Embrace, who has betaed all of the chapters of this fic and made it much better than I ever could have by myself._

**Disclaimer: **I do not own J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books and will make no money off of my writing.

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**Suffering**

_By Ponytail Goddess_

Chapter 1: A Father's Suffering

"_We stand, as it were, on the shore, and see multitudes of our fellow beings struggling in the water, stretching forth their arms, sinking, drowning, and we are powerless to assist them."_

_-Felix Adler_

"Let's see…" I mutter to myself as I search Winifred's chart for the line I need to fill in, "There…she ate approximately 60 percent of her dinner tonight, very good."

Even as I fill in my nightly notes, my eyes continue to wander down the graying hallway towards room 136, waiting for the inevitable to happen. I told him this was a bad idea, that it was much too soon to try and make amends. Alas, my father has never been one to listen to the advice of others. Tonight, I'm afraid he will reap the benefits of what he is attempting to sow.

Mentally, I shake my head at him in defeat as I put away Winifred's tray and go into Edmund's room. Edmund hasn't eaten a single thing on his platter.

"Ed, aren't you going to-"

"I would bloody well love to eat, thank you very much, but that new nurse didn't tell me where anything was! For fuck's sake, does she think I can read her mind or something?" he rants, picking up a fork and shaking it at me as if I was the recalcitrant nurse who wronged him.

"Well…she did cut up your chicken just the way you like it," I say, trying to sway Ed into having a more positive outlook on the situation. Like many of the elderly wizards in the home, however, he is very set in his ways. "Okay, so you've got the chicken at twelve o'clock, buttered mashed potatoes at five, and a mix of peas and carrots at nine. Sound good?"

"What's on the chicken?" he spits out, though not with as much vitriol as before.

"Lemon pepper seasoning," I reply, smiling as his expression livens up a bit, "Do you want any assistance eating tonight?"

He snorts and replies, "Albus, I may be blind, but I'm certainly not an invalid."

"I know," I say with a smile I'm certain he can hear inflected in my voice "I'm just required to ask—part of the job, you know."

I exit Edmund's room, rolling my eyes at the thought of Karen forgetting to tell a blind patient where his food is. Good grief, new or not, that was a rather large mistake to make. However, I find I'm not too terribly surprised at this new incident, as Karen's first two weeks here have been rocky at best. The woman prefers to sit at the nurse's station and chat up the secretary all day, for pity's sake. Some people just don't understand this job.

On the other hand, some do.

I watch as Vivian heads towards me, chatting with Mae while she escorts her from the dining room back to her bedroom for the night. It always astonishes me how well she can carry on a conversation while concentrating on stabilizing a resident's shaky legs with her wand.

As the pair starts to approach me, Vivian catches my eye and signals for me to go hide in a nearby room by tipping her head violently to one side. Unfortunately, as I start to do just that, Mae catches my eye and I know I am about to receive a very specific talk.

"Well, let's see your hand boy! Have you got yourself a ring yet?" she asks very demandingly, grabbing up my hand to look for herself while she desperately clings to the hallway rail with her other.

"No luck…young people today just don't understand the sanctity of marriage! You need to get yourself a pure-blooded witch, boy! People must think you're a right vagabond, having no wife at your age! Why, you-"

Vivian catches my eye and mouths the word 'sorry.' I shake my head a bit as the old witch continues on her timeless rant, which was probably inflicted on her during her younger years as often as she inflicts it upon us. I let her go on, as Mae is a right tyrant when she wants to be. Needless to say, none of the nurses know how to stop such a rant once she's gotten started.

"Seeing as you are both unmarried, you'd think you'd come to the conclusion that it was time to form an alliance!" she continued mercilessly, making Vivian blush a bit at the implication.

She has reason to, really, as Vivian and I do have a bit of a history together. However, Mae doesn't know anything about that. She just enjoys playing matchmaker with any single witches and wizards over the age of 16. Since Vivian and I are both pushing 40 and unmarried, we are frequent targets of such tirades and have grown accustomed to them.

Being the clever blonde that she is, Vivian somehow manages to lure Mae back to her room with the promise of putting on her favorite Celestina Warbeck record. With a roll of her eyes meant for only me, Vivian disappears through a nearby doorway with Mae at her side.

Sadly, this has done little to distract my single-minded thoughts. I look back at room 136 and feel a wave of remorse and worry pass over me again. I know what is going to happen and it is literally driving me mental because there is nothing I can do about it!

Dad will cry tonight, I just know it. I hate it when he cries. I always feel so helpless because I know there isn't a single thing that I can say to make everything all right. Also, it reminds me of the incident, which is something I prefer not to think about.

After all, Dad certainly thinks about it enough for the both of us.

He never listens to my advice though; no, he always has to do things his own way. I daresay he's at the point in his life where he won't change his ways, like many of the residents of this establishment. If only he'd let me help him—if only he could accept that he doesn't have to do things by himself then maybe, just maybe, he'll start to heal.

For Merlin's sake, sometimes I think he does these things on purpose…

Sometimes, I think he likes to suffer.

I sigh and rub my eyes a bit, my tiredness showing despite the fact that I'm only halfway done with my shift tonight. A soft hand rests unexpectedly on my shoulder. I pull my hand away from my face to find Vivian in front of me, looking a bit concerned on my behalf.

"You okay, Al?" she asks me in that soft-spoken voice of hers. Her hazel eyes meet mine and I smile weakly at her.

"No, not really," I admit cautiously, looking down at her short figure "It's nothing to worry yourself over though."

She looks at me and we both know what the other is thinking—we've had an argument over this sort of thing many times before. The look on her face is so cold that I find myself giving in.

"You've surely heard about the last fiasco my dad was apart of, right?" I ask, then skip ahead when she gives me 'the look.' "Of course you have, that was silly of me… Anyway, he's here to visit and make amends right now…but it's not going to go well, you know? It's much too soon for such a thing, but he wouldn't listen to my opinion, of course… I might have to take him home early."

My admission has earned me a pitiful look; really, such a look was the last thing I was after. My life is not nearly as bad as she makes it out to be. I'm 38 and have a solid career that I enjoy. Just because I live with my father to take care of him does not mean that I deserve pity!

She seems to sense my insecurity and drops her hand from my shoulder. "That poor man has suffered enough in his life for two people…maybe even three. Listen Al, if there's anything I can do to help…"

I smile at her request, though we both know I will not take her offer, genuine though it may be. "Thanks Viv. You know, the next few months are going to be an even bumpier flight for him, but dad's used to it. It's just going to take time."

"I understand," she says, turning away and walking a few steps before turning back and gasping "Oh fuck! Albus, there's something you need to know."

She suddenly looks a bit frightened, which puts my mind in a tizzy, as she is not the sort of woman who panics over little things. I get the feeling that I'm really not going to like what she says.

"You see, I heard we're getting a new occupant tomorrow…someone from your dad's time," she says, pausing to watch my reaction.

I snort, despite the sloshing of my stomach, and try to deduce what she's hinting at. "What's so special about that, Vivs?"

"No, you don't understand," she says. Nervously, she looks around before leaning in towards my ear and whispering, "They say he's got the Dark Mark—we're getting a Death Eater."

A slight chill runs down my spine as I think about such a disturbing possibility. "Are you serious?" I whisper back, unable to even comprehend this possibility because of how ill I feel. The grey hallways dissipate around me. For a second, I'm back in Godric's Hollow, reliving the kitchen scene that has haunted my nightmares for years. My breath catches in my throat as I look down and see-

"Albus!" she hisses, breaking me out of my flashback, "I'm sorry I had to tell you this way, okay, but I think you needed to know, you know, before it happened! After all, your safety is going to be at risk, as well as that of your father. Once we know where he's at, we're going to have to go out of our way to keep your dad away from him. Merlin only knows what that man will do if he recognizes him-"

"I know, I know…" I grumble, frustrated and upset, "…I just—yeah, okay… It's okay…"

I find that I'm talking more to myself than to her. Quickly pulling myself together as best I can, I look Vivian in the eye and say, "We'll take care of it, you and I. Between the two of us, my dad will never even know he's here, and vice versa."

We both nod at each other, making a silent pact. We grab each other's hand simultaneously and shake on our deal. Her hand is warm and reassuring in mine and my heart sings for a mere moment just from touching her.

We both hold the other's hand much longer than is necessary, looking into each other's eyes for confirmation that has nothing to do with the pact or my father at all. It's a much deeper feeling, something which both of us really need to work out.

I pull my hand away first and look down. I cannot give her what she wants—she doesn't understand, but it's for her own good. I would not distance myself from her if it wasn't.

She looks blankly at me before turning around and walking back down to the dining hall to collect one of our better-off seniors. I watch as her short figure walks dejectedly away from me. She normally has a very purposeful and determined walk, which makes her curly blonde ponytail jiggle with every step. She doesn't look nearly so vibrant, now that I've sunk her heart's ship.

I'm a dick.

She is wonderful, both pretty and smart to boot, with a kindled kindness that would make Helga Hufflepuff jealous. I feel like I rip a new hole in her sails every time we talk these days. However, I'm trying my best to avoid a relationship within the workplace, which is exactly what she's after. She's special indeed; I like to think of her as being the right woman for me, who has shown up at the wrong time. I'd love to get involved with her, I really would, but after the incident? Well, let's just say that no relationship has appealed to me since that disaster.

I'm determined not to end up like dad, hurting beyond imagination. I don't know how he's survived the pain from his life; I know I couldn't deal with it. Hell, he can't really deal with it himself, but he does still have me to take care of him and I work hard to do just that.

Feeling worse than ever after my encounter with Vivian, I continue my trek down the hallway to help feed the nursing home patients who cannot physically make it down the hall to the dining room. I spell nutritive potions into the next two patients, as neither can make it out of their bed. The first witch, Opal, stares up at me with scared-looking eyes that nearly bring me to tears.

She hasn't got much time left. Sooner or later, the harsh reality of my job will strike once again.

Blanche, on the other hand, has been stuck in what is thought to be a trance of some sort for the past eight years. She has not opened her eyes for me ever, though I always ask her how she is. Maybe one day she'll tell me.

Finally, the moment I've been waiting for occurs as I exit Blanche's room.

"Bugger and blast! Get the fuck out of my room, you bloody arsehole, before I hex your botched-up bollocks from here to France!"

"Would you please be reasonable and hear me out! I'm here to apologize, for fuck's sake!" my father cries.

A moment later, I watch as a plastic pink cup filled with ice slams into the wall outside of room 136. Ice cubes noisily clatter to the ground with the two pieces of the cup.

"Shit!" I cry as I run towards the icy mess.

"No, I've heard enough of you! Always getting people killed—it's your fault she's gone you know! You got her murdered and now you've gone and done this to me! If I ever get out of this bed, I'm going to kill you, do you fucking understand me? You are dead! Now get the fuck out!" I hear the other voice scream with an almost inhuman rage.

I round the corner into the room and catch sight of my father, who looks as if he has been stabbed in the back and still has the knife drilling a deep wound into his flesh. Despite the patient's age, he certainly still knew how to get to my father and hurt him effectively. This has not changed over time.

"Please, let's just-"

"OUT!" he howled, "OUT, YOU BASTARD, OUT!"

Knowing he can take little more, I briskly grab my father's shoulders and haul his numb body out of the room. Quickly, I shut the door and put a Silencing Charm on the door to prevent any more emotional abuse from my father's friend. The screaming immediately stops and the hallway became silent once again.

"Dad? Dad?" I question, turning him so he faces me as I look him over.

For a few moments, his face is totally devoid of emotion. He looks up at me after a terribly long silence and confirms my suspicions. "He's right, you know," my father whispers, tearing up a bit as he continues, "it is all my fault. Both of them…"

"Oh Dad…" I mutter as I grab him up in a tight hug. As he hugs me back, I can feel his hot tears on my ear, as well as the scratchy texture of grey stubble from his unshaven face.

My poor father, the one and only Harry Potter, whose spirit has finally been crushed.

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So, what did you think? More to come soon! Have a good day!

-P.G.


	2. Chapter 2: A Patient's Suffering

**Suffering**

_By Ponytail Goddess_

Chapter 2: A Patient's Suffering

"_All violence is the result of people tricking themselves into believing that their pain derives from other people and that consequently those people deserve to be punished."_

_-Marshall Rosenberg_

"Thank Merlin you're here!"

I turn to see Vivian jogging up to me as I hang up my coat in my locker. She looks frazzled and on edge, blonde curls spilling out of her usually tidy ponytail and into her face.

"Vivs?"

"Al, he arrived today from Saint Mungos, but he's just now woken up from the sleeping draught they gave him and he's going mental—shooting off wandless hexes at Karen, Amy, and Leslie! Strong ones too! Come on!" she says, dragging me by the sleeve of my robe before I even get the chance to cast a locking spell on my locker.

I give in and start to jog with her down the hallway. "174!" she pants as we make a sharp right, narrowly missing a teenage volunteer pushing a cart full of our pink plastic water mugs.

At this point, a room number became unnecessary, as I could hear two females shouting at the end of the corridor. We push forward toward the sound, dodging a couple of excited old witches who have come out to watch the show.

The scene we are coming upon is unfamiliar. Yellow and purple spells hit the wall in front of the door, illuminating the corridor with unnatural light. Karen is one of the screaming nurses; she is hiding behind a dirty linen hamper with her wand still nestled in her hair. My supervisor is pressed against the wall next to the room, wand at the ready, watching a rainbow of spells as they spill out of the room.

Whoever the wizard is, he is clearly worked up and ranting. As I near the scene, his words are easily made out. "Leave me alone! I don't need your help, damn it! Give me my wand and get out! Merlin help all of you if you don't!"

I can feel the crackle of his magic in the air around me; whoever it is, his magic is still strong. The hair on my arms stands on end from all of the energy he's worked up in the air. I feel my heart start to pound impatiently in my chest as I slow my momentum.

"Amy, what can I do? What do you know about him?" I ask my supervisor frantically, grabbing her arm to emphasize that I'm here.

She jumps when I touch her. I give her an apologetic look, which is disregarded in the seriousness of the situation. "Thank Merlin! Albus, we don't know anything about him! The Mediwizards couldn't get any information out of him! He was found in the Forbidden Forest outside of Hogwarts, passed out and shaking like mad. He seems to be suffering from substantial nerve damage and poisonous toxins—Mediwizard Mills said he's probably only got a couple of weeks left before his body gives out, but by Merlin's beard, he's going to have to go somewhere else if he can't get himself under control! I have half a mind to call your father in to deal with him right now!"

"Dad is taking some time off right now," I reply, looking up at the ceiling as I try to recall some specifics from my single year of Auror training. "I think I can take care of this."

"I know you've got that little trick of yours, but how the hell are you going to get close enough to touch him? He's spitting out spells right and left!" Amy exclaims, looking a bit frantic as we watch more spells hit the wall in front of the man's room.

"Give me a little credit Amy! I still dual from time to time with my dad—a well placed Shielding Charm should get me in." I say, feeling a bit offended that she doesn't think I can take an old man. I'm not that pathetic, am I?

"Whatever you do, remember not to attack him Albus! The last thing this nursing home needs is a lawsuit…"

A hardened hand grabs my sleeve before I can go in. "Albus, be careful." Vivian demands, looking at me with eyes that mean business. "Watch out for Leslie—she's hexed and lying on the floor."

I nod and turn towards the door. Summoning up all of my magic, I call out in a strong voice, "Protego!"

A shield appears before me, shining with power. I bite my lip and turn into the doorway. A blazing red flash of light immediately bounces off my shield and knocks a hole in the ceiling.

I glance at the man and am surprised at what I see—despite the power behind his hexes, he looks quite frail and is hunched over in bed, shaking like a leaf. I don't let that fool me though—he must be a strong old codger if he has been casting spells for a while.

"Who the hell are you? Get the fuck out of my room!" the old man exclaims, then fires off more spells. They are both silent and wandless and I find I cannot identify half of them.

"Please stop that—I'm trying to come over and help you, alright? None of us mean you any harm!" I exclaim as one of his spells hits my shield with so much power that I am forced back two steps. I can tell my shield was weakened by the impact. I need to get to him before it fails!

I suddenly run forward, jumping over Leslie's prone body to end up at the wizard's bedside. His next spell smacks my shield and a loud cracking noise is audible as my shield shatters and dissipates into the air. I watch as he points his hand at me; I grab his hand forcefully and yank it upwards, resulting in yet another hole being blown into the ceiling. Debris and dust rain down on us. I grab his other hand while choking on the dusty air.

Expecting him to fight as long as he can, I immediately pull out the trick I am infamous for at this nursing home. It's a bit of wandless magic I picked up at Auror school; in fact, it's the only wandless magic I've ever been able to do. The magic feels like a trickle of water flowing through my fingers as the air fills with the light fragrance of lavender.

As I put him to sleep, however, I notice that he has stopped all attempts at fighting me. In fact, as we stare at each other, he looks a bit shocked until the Sleeping Charm takes hold and makes his eyes droop. Slowly, I put both of his arms down at his sides after I am certain he's asleep. Even in his state of rest, they twitch with the after affects of the Cruciatus.

I get my first good look at his face at this point. He doesn't look like any of the pictures of Death Eaters I've seen. I would know too, as dad has occasionally taken to looking over pictures of suspected Death Eaters and Death Eaters who either didn't go to Azkaban or who have finished their time and have been set free. I also remember seeing photos of them in my History of Magic book, but that was a long time ago.

Immediately, I can tell that he's dying from poison by his face, which is tinted sightly green from the toxins. He reminds of pictures of Muggle witches, with their green faces and big, wart-covered noses. His nose isn't big though, and it's certainly not covered in warts. In fact, his nose seems to be his face's one redeeming quality, as the rest of his features are quite harsh with his protruding cheek bones and chin.

Finally, I lift his left arm to see if the rumors were true. Though it is faded and wrinkled on an arm that has lost most of its elasticity, the deadly skull and snake are still there. However, the snake does not move as it once must have; the magic in it is now gone, banished with its master.

A lot like the Mark set above my father's house in Godric's Hollow, as we came home that fateful day… Dad ran up to the door, panicking, and bolted inside, only to find-

"Albus Potter, put that man's arm down immediately and start respecting his privacy!" my supervisor exclaims, at last deeming the room safe to enter. One by one, timid-looking nurses enter into the room, looking at the bed-ridden man with a plethora of expressions.

I put his arm down and stare at the damage in the room—it's pretty substantial. However, Amy makes short work of it while Vivian takes the

Petrificus off of Leslie. After five minutes, everyone is staring at the wizard again in a pristine room.

Amy has her right hand placed over her mouth, which means she is thinking. She is always doing that—it's a habit for her. Sometimes I wonder whether or not she'd be able to think if someone were to hex it off.

"Don't tell me your going to let him stay!" Karen says, outraged at the mere contemplation of it. "That man's a menace—he should be in Azkaban with the rest of his lot!"

Leslie also looks less than pleased with this development, though after being hexed, she has a better reason to feel that way. "Amy, I'm going to have bruises from falling on the floor petrified… If he stays, I want nothing to do with him."

She gives Amy a stern glance before exiting the room. Karen follows with an indignant "hrumph." Vivian and I share a glance and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing. We've been betting on how many rude things she'll do before Amy cans her. I keep a tally in my locker, along with a list of her more memorable quotes, such as "He can wipe his butt himself!" and "I didn't know men could be nurses."

Our amusement is short-lived, however. Amy sighs. "You know, I just don't think it's ethical to kick him out because he's a Death Eater. We may have had troubles simply because he's mentally unstable at this age."

"You know, he stopped fighting me as soon as he got a good look at me. I think he thought I was my dad. Perhaps he would talk a bit if I impersonated Harry Potter," I suggest.

While I am annoyed that he attacked me, I am even more curious about him and his life. I have never actually met a Death Eater before and had always wanted to as kid. After hearing story after story about my dad's glory days, how could I not?

"He seems a bit too smart for that," Amy comments.

She's probably right. While I do look similar to my dad, the similarities only go so far. I've only managed to convince a whopping total of three patients here that I'm Harry Potter. My hair is simply too light brown to bear resemblance to him, not to mention having some of my mum's facial features.

"However, maybe he'll talk if you tell him your Harry's son. Then again, that might just make him even angrier. It's your call Albus, and by the looks of it, you're going to be doing a lot of his care…" she says, looking a bit nervous. "I'm not sure if I can handle him or not, Albus. I have never had a talent for dueling."

"I doubt many nurses here do," I say wryly.

"I'll help out." Vivian says, putting her foot down. "I'm not going to let some old codger scare me."

I don't doubt it either. She may be small, but I imagine she's one hell of fighter when she wants to be. When she looks at me, I roll my eyes and whisper, "Gryffindor." This earns me a well-placed elbow in my stomach.

"We'll take care of him, Amy; don't worry about it," Vivian says before leaving the room.

"How long is he going to be asleep?" Amy asks.

"I'd guess about 24 hours—I held him a bit longer than I needed," I reply, feeling a bit guilty about that. The guy only has a little time left and now I'm robbing him of it with my spell.

"Just make sure you're here when he wakes up—I don't want him going crazy like that again. One misplaced curse could easily kill an innocent passerby. I mean it Albus; get him under control."

I watch as she leaves the room. Annoyed doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about Amy right now. What she's asking me to do is much more easily said than done.

OOOOOOO

"Dad?" I call out, looking at the clock as I Floo in from work. 11:06 p.m. I check the kitchen for any signs of life, but only find his dinner, still uneaten on the table.

I sigh as I look at his plate, still steaming from the Heating Charm I placed on it before I left. I knew I would find it like that—he never eats when he's upset about something. I figure it's because he often went without food as a child when he was being punished and so he associates that feeling of hunger with being upset. I imagine that he would have starved by now if I wasn't around to make sure he eats food at regular intervals.

Feeling a bit worried, I walk to the parlor with the hopes of finding him engaged in the Prophet or a book, but have no such luck. "Dad?" I call out again, going up the stairs to look for him in his room. It's dark though, and so is my room, the bathroom, and the office. Jaunting back down the stairs, I start to panic a bit. He's always here when I come home from work, so where is he?

I grab my cloak off its entryway hook and start to think about who I should Floo-call for help, when a sharp movement catches the corner of my eye. I go into the parlor to investigate.

I see him out the sliding door and feel a wave of relief wash over me. With a slide of the door, I go and stand beside him on the veranda. He doesn't acknowledge my presence, nor does he look up from the sky, though I know he knows I'm here.

"Dad, what are you doing out here?" I ask him quietly.

It takes him a while to answer. "I'm looking at the stars."

Neither of us say anything for a while, but I imagine we are thinking about the same thing. When I have all but given up on hearing him say anything more, he starts to talk once again.

"Remember when James used to drag us out here and lecture us about the cosmos?" he asks without turning away from the night sky.

"Yes," I reply, feeling a bit uneasy about this topic, though I remember those nights all too well. While James had never taken much interest in most of his classes at Hogwarts, for whatever reason, astronomy had been his gift. He had spent hours upon hours outside, looking through that telescope of his. He would have stayed out until the wee hours of the morning every night if mum had let him.

I think of how the two of us used to play one on one Quidditch in our backyard at Godric's Hollow. It was fun during the daylight hours, but at night, he could never concentrate on the Snitch enough to win; not with the stars glittering above him. He always ended up lying awkwardly on his floating broom and watching for the mysterious, the unobtainable while I chased after the glowing snitch, usually with Dad zipping right behind me.

I smile a bit. "He used to get mad when we'd disrupt him while playing night Quidditch."

I look over and see my dad smiling a bit too, obviously remembering our shenanigans. "He did," he replies, then quietly says, "I miss him."

"I do too," I whisper, though it is no big secret. "Come on Dad, let's get you some dinner before midnight rolls around."

Ignoring his protests, I steer him inside and insist that he eats. All the while, my mind is filled with the sound of James' boisterous laughter. I can still picture him running across the newly-cut grass, barefoot, heading towards the garage to gather up our brooms for another rousing game of Quidditch.

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All comments are welcome :D.

-P.G.


	3. Chapter 3: A Brother's Suffering

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and will make no money off of my writing._

Note: A lot of readers have questioned the ages of the characters. I would like to clarify that people do not have to be at the end of their life to be put in a nursing home; they are open to anyone who cannot care for themselves.

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**Suffering**

_Ponytail Goddess_

Chapter 3: A Brother's Suffering

"_Love the moment. Flowers grow out of dark moments. Therefore, each moment is vital. It affects the whole. Life is a succession of such moments and to live each is to succeed."_

_-Corita Kent _

I Floo to work extra early the next day with the hopes of catching my charge as he wakes up. From what I can tell when I enter the staff room, everything seems quiet. Hell has not broken loose. I assume that our resident Death Eater has not woken up yet.

Slowly, I put my things away in my locker and head down the hallway to room 174, glancing into 136 as I go by—the patient there appears to be sleeping, which is good because he's a right bastard when he's awake these days. Things are fairly quiet today and I manage to dodge Mae by slipping around the corner at just the right moment.

Leslie smiles at me as she passes by and I smile back, feeling fairly refreshed and ready to work, despite the serious conversation I had with Dad last night. Perhaps remembering our better days has helped him a bit, as he got through his morning routine today without me having to help him.

As I get close to 174, my thoughts stray from my father and back to the room's occupant. I'm a bit nervous, as I don't really want to put him to sleep again if he goes mental again—he's only got a short while left to live and I'd like to make sure he's awake for a portion of it, especially since he seems very coherent.

Quietly, I peek in the door to see what if he's asleep or not. I am surprised to find that he is awake and appears to be looking through some paperwork over tea. He senses my presence and looks up at me with dark eyes that have seen many evils over time.

"Potter," he states in greeting, seeming much calmer than yesterday. Perhaps he has resigned himself to living here after all. Whatever has happened, I am relieved he's not throwing curses my way again.

"Who brought you tea?" I ask curiously as I step in the room. I had thought no one else would be willing to approach him while he was awake.

"I summoned it from the kitchen," he says, looking back down at the documents before him. "It took a few tries to get the pot and cups here in one piece, but it was worthwhile."

My eyes widen a bit as I imagine several tea services crashing through the hallway and shattering to pieces. I can only guess what the first shift nurses think of him after that stunt.

"What are you reading?" I ask, suddenly suspicious.

"Nothing that concerns you," he states without looking up from the papers.

Seeing as no one has been in here to visit him, I decide I had better figure out where the papers came from. Wand in hand, I approach his bed and glance over his shoulder. He tries to cover the papers with his hand while glaring up at me, but I've already seen all I need.

"Where the hell did you get my work file? This information is supposed to be confidential!" I exclaim, ripping the folder out from under his fingers.

"I summoned it, of course. If it wasn't meant to be out, it should have had an Anti-Summoning Charm on it," he says, seemly unconcerned about his invasion of my privacy.

"How did you know which one was mine anyway? I know I didn't tell you my name last night," I state, my eyes narrowing at the sneaky and remorseless old Death Eater.

"You look like Harry Potter," he replies with a roll of his eyes. "It certainly wasn't hard to deduce that you were a close relation."

I glare at him, instantly assuming the worst. He knows about my dad, though I suppose most Death Eaters do. His desire to know more about me, however, makes me wonder if he was responsible for the incident or perhaps knows who was responsible. The fact that he's looked at my information and now knows where my father and I live really bothers me.

Unfortunately, I'll get canned if I cast Obliviate on him. Otherwise I would.

"Well, did you find the information you were looking for?" I ask uneasily. I had thought I could handle this, but clearly this wizard was more of a handful than I had originally thought.

"Yes, I did Albus Severus Potter, born on February 8, 2006 to Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter of Godric's Hollow. You are 38 years old and at 187 centimeters tall, you weigh 84 kilograms, which is healthy for a man of your age. You are still single and are, much to my surprise and disgust, a Hufflepuff. You make $5,418 galleons per year and-"

"Okay, okay, that's enough! For fuck's sake, now that you've memorized my life story, perhaps you could tell me a bit of your own," I counter, annoyed that he could memorize that so fast.

"My, my…such filthy language from a Hufflepuff. What's next, a voice of reason in Gryffindor?"

I decide to ignore his sarcasm and try to press for information once again. "Can you at least tell us your first name?" I ask, trying my best to remain kind and reasonable.

"No, I don't think that's any of your business," he states coolly. Having spent a lot of time with Scorpius during my seven years at Hogwarts, I can tell that the Death Eater is doing his best aggravate me on purpose. However, he's succeeding and I don't like it because I cannot manage to produce any scathing comments in return. At least, not without a lot of thought, which I don't have time for right now.

Annoyed and needing a break from his nonsense, I start to walk out of the room. Perhaps he wanted someone to speak with after all because he calmly stated as I went out the door, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"You never know until you try," I tell him after turning around and raising one of my eyebrows, "but if you're going to tell me something, you had better do it now. I'm not going to stand around here all day while you lead me in circles."

"Very well, all I shall tell you is that I knew your father very well when he was a teenager."

"You knew him because you were targeting him," I say, not amused by the Death Eater's attitude.

"No, we spent plenty of time together at Hogwarts," he replies, then makes a shooing motion with his hand, "I thought you had work to do, boy! Get out!"

"You spent time…at Hogwarts?" I mutter, more to myself than to him. "But that's not possible-"

"OUT!" he yells, clearly annoyed with me. I obey, not wanting to let him get worked up any further. The last thing anyone here needs right now are curses flying out of room 174.

As I go about my first task of moving witches and wizards into the grand parlor for some scheduled entertainment, I cannot take my mind off of the conundrum the Death Eater has provided me with. How could this man have known my father? From what I had read, Professor Albus Dumbledore had never allowed any Death Eaters entrance to the school, aside from the occasional parent or board member. However, most of those wizards and witches would not have been around nearly as often as the Death Eater was suggesting.

There was, of course, the possibility that the Death Eater was simply having me on. After all, he hadn't said much about my father; but then again, I hadn't asked and had allowed him to shoo me out of his room upon command. Therefore, while there was a chance that he was currently having a good laugh at my expense, there was also a chance that he was telling the truth.

Unfortunately, because I am lost in my thoughts, I do not hear Mae approach me and suddenly find myself subjected to yet another lecture about how I need to marry a pure-blooded witch and how if I wait to propose much longer, Vivian will be too old to have children.

Merlin have mercy—the old witch is driving me mad.

Luckily, a twiggy finger touches her shoulder to get her attention. "Oi! You're going to miss those kids singing if don't stop dawdling! Off you go now!" a tall old man says, pointing a freckled finger towards the grand parlor.

By the look on Mae's face, I can tell she's a bit offended, but the man has made a correct assumption about her: she does not wish to miss the show. Put in her place for a change, the old witch slowly walks away from us, using the hallway rail to support a large amount of her weight.

As soon as she's a ways away, I turn and give my brightest smile to the visitor. "Thanks Uncle George," I say with a smile, feeling genuinely happy to see him. It's been nearly a year since I last saw him and I find that I've missed his happy-go-lucky demeanor.

"Happy to help, young Headmaster Potter," Uncle George replies, taking off the ridiculous top hat he's wearing to give me a proper bow. I snort at the nickname that I daresay I'll never be without.

"Have you been in to see-" I start to ask.

"No," he says, looking serious suddenly. "You'd have heard him yelling if I had. I figured I might wait a bit so he doesn't disrupt the performance down there…"

"I can shut the door and silence it," I say with a shrug, "Maybe he'll actually appreciate a visit from you."

"I imagine he tore Harry to pieces when he came in, right?" he asks, staring at the floor with an unnatural frown on his face.

I frown as well, not enjoying this darker demeanor of his. "Yes, he did," I answer quietly, "I told Dad he needs to wait a while before trying to visit, but I'm sure he'll be in to try again by the end of the week."

"Merlin, I'm sorry Al… Tell Harry I'll do everything I can to get him to use his brain… He never does think things through before he says them; never has, never will."

I hesitate before mentioning this, but then decided it would be better for Uncle George to know. "Uncle George, he…well, when he yelled at Dad, he blamed him for 'the incident' as well. I think that is what has affected him the worst, seeing as he already blames himself for what's happened to your brother. Could you try and tell him not to say anything about that again? Dad's been wrapped up in memories all week because of it and I think they're making him depressed."

I'm feeling a bit on edge after; I admit that. Life with my father for the last few years has been anything but easy and I don't really enjoy admitting that to anyone else, even family. I suppose my family already suspects that though, but it was still hard to say it out loud.

Part of me feels like it's my job to safeguard my dad's privacy, as he has certainly not been in good enough shape to do it on his own these days. It always seems like someone is asking about the infamous Harry Potter, or worse, lurking behind hedges to snap photos of him doing something that is easily misinterpreted. Then, he gets the joy of waking up and seeing lies about himself splashed across the Prophet.

Since 'the incident,' he has more reason than ever to hate his fame. I have gone to extra lengths to ensure that he does not come into contact with the press at any time because I know that he really can't handle it. Paying extra for extraordinary wards on my house are well worth if it allows my dad to stay safe and sane.

George seems to understand my confession all too well and gives me a hug. "He doesn't really believe that, Al. You know he just says whatever comes to his mind when he's angry. I think he understands that it was in no way your dad's fault."

"I know, I know…" I say, feeling an explosion of chaos within myself. "I'm just upset because Dad was talking about James last night for the first time in Merlin-only-knows how long and I've had him on my mind ever since."

George senses that I'm about to lose control and he silently grabs my medical robes and pulls me into the nearest men's room. He hands me a handkerchief and I turn away as I try to get a hold of myself. After I've used it to wipe away my stray tears, I briefly wonder if it's hexed.

"I'm sorry about that, Uncle George; it's just a lot to deal with," I say softly, handing back the damp handkerchief.

"It's okay Al, we've all been there. I'll make sure I stop by and visit your dad this week, okay? Maybe I'll have better luck with convincing him to stay home."

"Thanks—I really appreciate it," I reply, feeling uneasy because of how much emotion I've shown about the current topic. I'm used to keeping my feelings to myself.

"Al, I'll do anything to make sure your dad isn't feeling guilty over something that isn't his fault. You know, it's not the first time my brother has blamed someone for an unnatural death in the family. When Fred died, way back when, he blamed Percy—said it was his fault for making him laugh. And then, when that got old, he blamed me for not being around to save him. None of his arguments ever made any sense though; they never do because he's never being rational when he says these things.

"You can't let him get to you," he reminds me, his kind brown eyes meeting my own. "I know it's hard because he's a bloody tosser, but sooner or later, he will let it go."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I think you've become a wise old man…" I say, half-joking and half-sincere.

George, however, takes it as a joke. "Of course I'm wise! I'm also incredibly beautiful, powerful, witty, and manly! Especially manly!" he exclaims, then proceeds to overzealously flex his arms in an array of 'macho' poses.

Even in his 60's, Uncle George still knows how to act like a kid.

Laughter escapes my lips as I watch his shenanigans. "So, how's your shop doing, Uncle George? Is there any new merchandise that I need to know about?"

"Headmaster, you know I can't tell you that information! You'll ban my products from the school!" he exclaims wildly. Jokes having to do with my names never seem to get old to him.

I roll my eyes at him and he straightens up a bit. "My shop is doing quite well, as it always is, my dear nephew. Oh, but I do have a bit of news though! Po and Sagi made their first trip into my shop this past month!"

I feel as though I've been hit in the face for a moment while a blast of shock runs through my system. "Po and Sagi came in? How were they? Did Lily bring them there?"

George chuckles a bit and says, "From the look of things, they were disobeying her by entering the shop. She stomped in a few minutes after they arrived and called for them using their full names—I imagine they got quite the verbal lashing for coming in without permission, the poor little tots."

"Did she look well? Was her husband there?" I ask, trying to picture what she might look like now, after all of this time.

"She looked fine to me," he replies with a grin, "albeit a bit too grouchy for my tastes, and no, he wasn't with her."

I sigh and look down. A hand touches my shoulder.

"It will all work out, Al. No more frowns," he says, then waves his wand at me.

Shite.

"What on Earth did you just do to me?" I ask as George pushes by me and exits the washroom. I follow him speedily. "George? George!" I call after him, suddenly worried that I might be tattooed or dyed in some unearthly fashion.

George turns around, pats his pocket, and then walks away.

Pocket.

I pat my own and am surprised to feel it bulging with something. Ah, lemon drops… I didn't know he knew how much I like them. I pop one in my mouth and damn my gullibility, I end up spending the remainder of the day walking around with neon yellow hair.

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All comments are welcome. Thanks for reading!

-P.G.


	4. Chapter 4: A Sister’s Suffering

Disclaimer: I make no money off my writings and do not own anything associated with Harry Potter.

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**Suffering**

_By Ponytail Goddess_

Chapter Four: A Sister's Suffering

"_Mishaps are like knives that either serve us or cut us, as we grasp them by the blade or the handle."_

_-James Russell Lowell_

"So, I see you took out your Hufflepuff hair coloring… I suppose I'll have to find something else to rib you about today," the Death Eater mentions as I enter his room with his dinner tray.

I roll my eyes at the old wizard before setting his tray in front of him. He really enjoyed my vibrant hair the day before and made mocking comments about it all day long. Surprisingly enough, his comments almost had a joking nature to them and I found that I didn't mind them nearly as much as I thought I would.

Charming his bed into a sitting position, I carefully adjust his pillow so it is more comfortably sitting behind his head. I then place a Sticking Charm to it so that it won't go anywhere.

I step back and watch him slowly take his cloth napkin and situate it on his lap with meticulous care. His wrinkled hands are shaking so badly that I wish I could reach out and help him. However, I know he wouldn't like that so I resist the urge; he has a very independent air about him and I don't wish to anger him.

I really wish I knew who he was.

Yesterday night, I did a bit of research on living Death Eaters and found that other than the Malfoys, most of the known Death Eaters are either dead or in Azkaban. However, many of the articles I read from Dad's collection suggest that nobody really knows how many followers Voldemort really had; basically, there could be any number of them still floating around freely in our world.

Over the years, a few have been caught too. Inadvertently, mind you, but criminals frequently aren't willing to turn over a new leaf and a few of Voldemort's old followers have been caught when committing other crimes. Dad has a few good stories about this; I remember hearing about them as a child. In fact, I always knew when it happened because the press would show up outside of our house and I would be forced to stay inside. Since James and I usually wanted to play Quidditch, we both found this very upsetting.

"Are you going to stand there and daydream all day, Potter, or are you going to work?" a voice asks me, making me gasp as I come back to the real world.

I feel a light flush break out on my cheeks as I realize I've been standing here, staring at the wall like an idiot for Merlin only knows how long. "I'm sorry sir; is there anything else I can get you?" I ask, doing my best to ignore my embarrassment.

"Some tea would be nice—green darjeeling, if you've got it," he answers, eyeing me with a look that almost dares me to say we don't.

"Okay then, I'll go get it," I say, then take off down the hall to fetch him some tea, as well as a Nutritive Potion. With the way he's shaking, I imagine only about half of his meal is going to make it into his stomach.

After procuring some tea and vial of potion, I quickly walk back to the Death Eater's room. I find that he is using a Sticking Charm to stick his food to his spoon, which he releases when it reaches his mouth.

How clever.

"Here's your tea, nice and hot," I say, setting down the service on the table. I hold up the potion and say, "You'll be needing to take this as well."

The Death Eater wrinkles his nose when the potion comes into view. "You intend for me to drink that swill? I can tell by the color alone that your Nutritive Potion is mediocre at best."

"Oh? And how can you tell?" I ask him, curious and hoping to find out a bit more about him.

"I've worked with potions all my life Potter—it should be a sea foam green, not teal!" he says grouchily, looking at me as if I am a fly floating in a perfect brew.

"Aren't those two colors the same?"

"Of course not! Who in Merlin's name did you take potions from at Hogwarts? Clearly, that person knows nothing!" he exclaims, clearly irritated at my stupidity.

Before I can answer, Viv's blonde head pops into the doorway and interrupts our banter. "Al, have you given Edwin his dinner yet?"

"No," I start, "It said on his chart-"

"Good," she interrupts, walking over and patting my arm, "Just making sure before I spelled the potion into him—we don't want him to have a reaction tonight. Thanks Al."

She smiles and makes her exit; my eyes lingering on her as she turns away. When I turn back to the Death Eater, I find him leering at me.

Shite.

His smirk only grows as he asks, "So, you fancy her, do you?"

I frown at him, knowing that he isn't the type of person who would let something like this go. "I don't think that's any of your business," I state calmly, giving him a look of disapproval.

"Have you ever locked yourselves in one of the supply closets? Or perhaps you enjoy having it out on some poor, unsuspecting patient's bed when he or she is out of the room, eh?"

"We are professionals! Of course not!" I exclaim, extremely annoyed. "We are not dating either, not that it's any of your business!"

The Death Eater smirks at me, having succeeded in baiting me today. "You are simply much to easy to maneuver, boy. You should learn to control your temper."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, you're one to speak about that—now, take your potion."

I take the cork out of the vial and hand him the potion. The liquid sloshes dangerously close to the edges of the vial as his shaking hand brings it up to his mouth. He only spills a few droplets though before downing the potion in one gulp.

As he hands the vial to me, I hear him mutter something. "What was that?" I ask, taking the vial from him.

He rolls his eyes. "I said I couldn't tell what was wrong with it."

"I'm sure it was just fine," I reply as I spell away the potion droplets on his blanket.

"No, it isn't… My sense of taste is all but gone, otherwise I could have told you how to fix it," he grumbles, looking more annoyed with himself than anything else.

I feel a small shred of pity for him now, as I realize that he must be depressed about all of this and suffering silently by choice. It is hard for wizards and witches to go through such changes; many are lucky and don't seem to remember enough to notice how far they've digressed. However, for those few who remain coherent until the end, well…they tend to suffer terribly because they know what they've lost.

I wonder if he knows he's dying. I wonder if he has anyone who would care that he did.

For the first time, I reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze with my own. "It's okay—these things happen to everyone with time," I say, trying to be reassuring. I know there's little I can do for him, but I don't want him sitting around feeling sorry for himself either.

However, the Death Eater rips his hand away from me and snarls. "I don't need your pity, boy. Go, go and get your work done!" he exclaims angrily, slamming his hand down on his bedside table. His tea service rattles under the pressure and the air becomes thick with magic.

I exit quickly with the hopes that he will calm down soon. Now, more than ever, I find that I need to know who he is. The only thing that he's given away is that he has worked with potions, but still, that is a start. I'm going to find out who he is and I'm going to do it before it's too late.

OOOOOOO

As I walk through the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley, I wonder if I look as tired as I feel. Having spent a large portion of the night looking through Dad's articles and history books, I feel like I'm dragging myself through my day off. As I push through the crowd, I see a girl pointing at me: her family all watching me. Disgusted by my fame, I duck into the grocer's as fast as I can.

Brunhilda's Grocery is the name of the shop and I stop to take in the usual scene; there are house-elves everywhere, pushing around tiny carts and levitating food items into them. One is hitting himself on the head with a watermelon repeatedly.

I sigh—some things never change.

Taking one of the few wizard-sized carts, I go around and levitate several food items into it without a problem, all while trying to ignore the elf chaos going on around me. I can't help but wonder what Aunt Hermione must think of all this; she campaigned for house-elf rights for years, yet they still are primarily all bound to families. In fact, the only wizards I ever see in Brunhilda's are my aunts and uncles and I figure that's because Hermione would never let them hear the end of it if they got elves.

Therefore, I am shocked when I see a small blonde boy running down the isle towards me. Dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, the boy's trainers slam towards me and I have to step out of his way to avoid being hit.

"Polaris! Get back here this instant!" A harsh voice yells from the other side of the isle.

My eyes dart towards the mother and I am astonished to find my sister glaring daggers at her son from the other side of the isle. "Lily…" I stare dumbfounded as I watch her storm past me towards her wayward son.

"But mum, I wanted to see where Whimsy shops! Look at that elf mum; he's hitting his head on a shelf!" the boy exclaims, pointing at the crazed elf who is in the process of concussing himself.

"Polaris, what did I tell you about running off, young man?" she asks, towering over him like a troll ready to slaughter.

"That I shouldn't do it and that I'd get my broom taken away for a day, but mum! I just wanted to where Whimsy always goes to get our food!" he cries, "Please don't take away my broom! I'll be good, I promise!"

"Nope, it's too late for that, Po. Your father and I will be locking your broom away until tomorrow once we get home."

"NO!" young Polaris exclaims, then starts to cry rather loudly. I watch Lily snatch the hysterical five year-old up in her arms and carry him back towards me. She looks like she's going to walk right by me, so I step in front of her.

"Albus," she says with a glare, "get out of my way! This is a bad time!"

"No," I find myself saying before I think. "Lily, can't we just talk?"

"Another time, Albus!" she hisses and tries to slip by me with her blubbering son.

"You have avoided me for the past six years—Lily, families aren't supposed to be like this!" I exclaim. I am a bit shocked that I am demanding this of her; after all, I'm not a very brave person.

_Oh, who am I kidding?_ I back down and beg, "Can you at least tell me how you are? Please Lily, you have no idea how much I wonder if you're doing okay!"

"I'm fine, my husband's fine, and my children are fine. We're all fine Albus, is that what you wanted to hear? Now move please!" she says, patting Po's back as he starts to calm back down.

"Lily…please," I say, still blocking her way, "Don't you want to know how Dad is doing?"

"No, I don't particularly care-"

"Lily, he's in a bad way… Do you know what happened to Uncle-"

"Of course I do! I read the paper Albus!" she exclaims.

"Well, then you can only imagine how he must be feeling right now, okay? I think he'd really appreciate a visit from you."

"No, out of the question," she says, looking down at Polaris to avoid my eyes.

"Why, Lily? It was years ago," I say softly.

"Because…he should have come home," she replies shakily, "The incident wouldn't have happened if he had just come home when Mum fire-called him."

"Don't you think he knows that?" I ask quietly. "Don't you think if he had any suspicion that it would happen, he would have come home? He couldn't have known Lily, and it isn't his fault."

"He put his work first, Albus," she states sternly, "Being an Auror always came first and family second. If he had his priorities straight, this would have never-"

"Lily, it is in the past! He can't change what happened-"

"It's so easy for you to take his side, isn't it? Of course you would, you've given up your Auror career and all that is dear to you to take care of him, after all-"

"That's not true!" I hiss, "He is not the reason I quit my Auror apprenticeship!"

"Whatever Albus. You know, it was a much easier transition for you; you already had an apartment with Scorpius and a job. You were out of school! I was the one who had to move somewhere else because Dad couldn't take care of himself after-"

"You didn't have to go anywhere! We would have all managed better if we had stuck together afterwards anyhow! Now look at us: it's years later and our family is totally destroyed! It's like no one even wants to give out second chances!"

"Albus, it's not going to happen—I can't forgive what he did-"

"Lily, it just happened—don't you want your children to know their grandfather? To know me, his-"

"Don't you dare say that word Albus. Not in front of Polaris."

My eyes tear up as I ask, "Don't you want him to know me?"

She sighs and a touch of remorse is evident on her face. "Albus…"

Lily stops as Polaris swivels around to face me, with one thumb in his mouth and his other hand curled around a chunk of his mother's red hair. This makes me feel even worse because we've been arguing in front of a five year-old. He looks nervous and has every right to.

I look away. "I understand," I state calmly, "I'm sorry I took up so much of your time."

"Albus…you can't possibly be happy where you are…" she says softly, "Watching old people die? Living with Dad? Are you really going to be satisfied with that for the rest of your life?

She pauses. "Are you really happy?"

I put my hands in my pockets and stare at the ground nervously. I don't know how to answer her questions. I'm used to putting others before me; I usually don't think about what is good for myself. Between my dad and uncle, there is little time for me to think about what I might have missed out on.

"Albus?"

"No," I finally say, looking everywhere but her face. "I suppose I'm not happy, but someone had to take care of Dad and I'm the right person to do it. He needs me and I don't regret making the choices I've made."

I somehow find the guts to look up at Lily. She turns from Po and looks at me in the eyes. I'm not sure what emotion I'm seeing there, but at least it's not anger. "If you change your mind Lily, you can come over anytime. Bring Po and Sagi—I think a coupled spirited children would be good for him."

Smiling sadly, I turn away from Lily and start to walk down the isle. As I leave, I hear Po say, "He looks like Harry Potter, Mum! Is he Harry Potter?"

My nephew doesn't even seem to know his grandfather is Harry Potter. I hold in my tears though—I have to stay strong, for Dad, if nothing else. After all that has happened, he needs someone to cling to and if I'm the person he needs, then so be it. I'm not going to turn my back on him. Not now, not ever.

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So, what did you think? Please leave a review and let me know if you like it or not. Thanks for reading—have a splendid day!

-P.G.


	5. Chapter 5: A Girlfriend's Suffering

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything associated with Harry Potter and will make no money off of my writing.

A big thanks goes out to ObsidianEmbrace, who continues to beta for me and does a fabulous job!

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**Suffering**

_By Ponytail Goddess_

Chapter 5: A Girlfriend's Suffering

"_Where there is love, there is pain."_

_-Spanish Proverb_

I rush down the hallway, fueled by the information Viv fed me when I arrived. It can't be happening… It can't be happening. I turn into room 174 and bite my lip at what I see.

The Death Eater is in agony.

Cautiously, I approach him. I can see beads of sweat trickling down his green-tinted face as he shakes brutally in the bed. I don't really know what to do because he has frequently refused my help in the past. I don't just want to watch him suffer though…

"Sir, is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Would you like to sit up? Would you like some water?" I ask nervously, watching him writhe in pain.

"Yes…" he hisses, squinting at me as he struggles to keep his eyes open, "…water…"

I poke my head out of the doorway and summon a pink mug from the water girl's cart down the hall. The perspiring plastic mug smacks the center of my hand like a baseball and I clutch it strongly as I approach the Death Eater again.

Very gently, I use my wand to draw his bed into more upright position so he can get a drink. I barely move him at all and he cries out, which makes me stop immediately. He's gripping the sides of his bed with claw-like hands, shuddering in pain; I decide he's up far enough and gently ease my hand behind his neck so I can tilt his head up.

His eyes shoot open the moment my hand makes contact with his skin. Before he can protest, I bring the mug up to his lips and say, "Slowly now, not too much."

He sips the water slowly, though a lot of it drips down his chin because of his body's convulsions. After he's drunk all that he should, I set the mug down and spell away the water that is dripping down his neck and chest. I also cast an Evanesco on his sweat-soaked bed sheets with the hopes of making him more comfortable.

With a wave of my wand, the Death Eater's bed reclines back into its normal position. A few clumps of shiny grey hair fall into his face as he descends, which I gently brush out of his way once he's settled.

I don't know what else I can do for him, but I do know one thing: I cannot leave him to suffer alone. I wave my wand at an armchair in the corner; it scrapes the floor as it slides over to me. I sit down silently and watch him as he flails helplessly.

The Mediwizards are very busy today at Saint Mungo's. Vivian said that it will be at least an hour before anyone arrives to help him. Until then, all he's got is me and I certainly don't know how to cure his pain. He's been given quite a few potions to try and ease the pain, but they don't seem to be working.

"Poor quality…potions…tend to have that effect," he rasps out, his eyes open and squinting at me. That is when I see the emotion he's trying his best to hide…

Fear.

My hand reaches out to his own fistful of the blankets and gently lies atop his. This time, he doesn't resist. In fact, within a minute, his shaking hand has turned over and grips my own quite tightly. It is slick with perspiration and cold; I grip it tightly.

"You read my mind," I state, slightly impressed to be witnessing a lost art. "I've never met a Legilimens before."

"You think quite loudly," is all the answer I get from him. He sounds like he's in a terrible amount of pain.

"Would you like me to put you to sleep?" I ask softly, stroking his bony hand.

"NO!" he exclaims, suddenly livid. "I want to…be awake…for the Mediwizard."

"Okay, okay!" I say, not wanting to make the situation worse, "I won't put you to sleep! I just thought you'd rather not be in pain!"

"Of course I'd rather not be in pain you…imbecile!" he huffs, "I just can't…trust…those idiots from…Mungo's."

His head then proceeds to thrust backwards and he screams like a man possessed. He grips my hand far tighter than I imagined he could and I bite my lip so that I do not also scream.

"Calm down sir," I say in my most soothing voice, bending forward so I can look into his eyes. "They'll be here soon and they'll help you get better."

He takes deep breaths and slowly seems to overcome the worst of the pain. He then looks me straight in the eye and says, "Cyanide…I want cyanide, boy! Put me out of…my misery…"

"I'm afraid that's against the nurse's charter," I tell him softly, feeling rather helpless. He's suffering greatly and I wish I could make him better somehow.

"I know," he says.

We look at each other. When he looks at me it's almost as if he's looking into my very soul. I wonder how much he knows…

"Tell me about…Potter," he finally says, squeezing my hand tightly as another ripple of pain flows through him.

"Dad?" I ask, a bit suspiciously. I'm not sure that I want to tell the Death Eater about my family, though I must admit, I think it's safe. He clearly doesn't have much time left and definitely doesn't have the strength to get up and go after any of my family members. "What do you want to know?"

"What happened to…him after Hog-" he mumbles, clenching his teeth for a moment before he finishes, "-warts."

After a few moments of thinking about the consequences, I decide to tell the Death Eater what he wants to hear. After all, he's suffering greatly and I think that maybe my stories will take his mind off of the horrors his body is putting him through right now.

"Well, as you probably know, my dad went back to Hogwarts after Voldemort was defeated to complete his final year of schooling. The worst thing he had to battle that year was the press, from what I've heard. They were always after him, popping in and asking for interviews all the time; it was never convenient for him, either. He put on a smiling face for the masses, but really, Dad just wanted to be left alone, you know-"

The Death Eater snorts and when I look up at him, he looks amused. "What's so funny?"

"Famous Potter…always wanted the spot…light…at Hogwarts," he mutters, looking less amused as another wave of pain rakes through him.

"If you think that, then you clearly didn't know Dad very well," I state with a frown. Could it be that he's been lying to me the entire time about knowing my Dad personally? "Dad can't stand those nosy people at the Prophet—they never get the facts straight… Plus, you don't even want to pick up the tabloids and see what they have to say about him. They have all sorts of bizarre stories about him and his family. According to them, I'm apparently "James Potter," who was reincarnated by a black magic ritual Harry acquired from Voldemort's library. Needless to say, I could certainly do without that nonsense."

I stop and rub his shaking hand with my own. He seems to be doing a bit better now that he has something else to concentrate on, so I keep going. "Anyway, so Dad ended up really falling arse over elbow in love with Mum during his final year of school. It was quite easy for them to spend loads of time together too, since they were then in the same year and all. They studied together, went to class together, spent the holidays together, and before you knew it, they were in love.

"They got engaged at the end of the school year and remained that way for three years; Dad went through his Auror apprenticeship then and Mum played professional Quidditch for a while. From what I hear, she wasn't the greatest at it, but she could definitely get the job done and her team liked her well-enough.

"They had a lovely wedding ceremony right after Dad became a real Auror and they moved to Godric's Hollow, where Dad rebuilt the house my grandparents once lived in. Then—oh bloody hell…"

He's looking worse now, much worse… Where is that Mediwizard—this man is not going to hold out much longer! He's shaking more and more, though his hand is gripping mine like steel. On top of this, he's starting to look a bit comatose, his eyes drooping a bit against his sickly skin.

"Keep going…" I hear him mutter, and so I do just that while I hold his hand tightly between both of my own to try and comfort him.

"Well, then they settled down and had me and my brother and sister. James was born first, then me, then Lily. We were all pretty normal, really. Dad kept working for the ministry while Mum stayed home with us and for a time, everything was really good."

I feel a tremor go through me as I watch the Death Eater shaking in pain, his face clenched up as he tries to fight it. Merlin, I feel so helpless! There's nothing I can do! The Death Eater is starting to look a little less coherent, which is good because I don't really want him to remember what I'm about to say.

"But…things got bad one day…really bad…" I stutter, remembering how fast my heart was pounding as I watched Dad slowly kneel beside the body on the floor, a look of total shock on his face. I needed to find where she was though and I frantically ran through the house, tearing through each room, searching, hoping-

"I can't talk about it," I blurt out, suddenly unnerved. I thought maybe I would feel brave enough to say it out loud, but I just can't. Even after all these years, it still hurts like it just happened this week.

I take a moment to calm down, which the Death Eater doesn't notice; he's too ensconced in his pain to be aware of anything right now. A few deep breaths later, I'm ready to continue.

"Basically, something really bad happened and our family split up. Some of them blame the whole thing on Dad because if he wasn't so famous, we wouldn't always have the press coming by and not as many people would know where we lived. Plus, Lily always says that if he had just come home an hour earlier like Mum had asked, it never would have happened.

"Really, that's a lie though—who knows what might have happened if Dad was there. Maybe the suspect would have murdered him instead; it's hard to tell. To top it off, the person who did it was never caught, which is a never-ending source of frustration for Dad. He thinks that if he finds the murderer, things will magically resolve themselves and we'll be a family again. It's not that easy though; nothing ever is."

I look over at him and am surprised to see his eyes wide open and staring at me, looking slightly dilated. I open my mouth to ask him how he's feeling, only to stop when I feel a foreign presence in my mind.

He's a Legilimens…and before I can say anything, he's viewing the corpse on the kitchen floor.

He's not the only one shaking now.

It's odd though, because even though I'm seeing my memory, I'm also seeing a different one too…one that isn't my own. It's startlingly familiar though, like something I've seen before in a dream. Instead of one red-haired woman on the floor, now there are two…both still, their eyes unseeing as they stare blankly at the ceiling. There's a baby too, standing in the sink and screaming his little heart out, though I can't hear him…a baby with a lightning bolt scar…

Then, as quickly as it appeared, the vision is gone and I'm staring at the Death Eater as he grits his teeth.

I just saw a vision of Dad…right after his parents died! That's impossible though, because the person who discovered him…

Well, the person who discovered him is dead.

The more I think about it though, the more it makes sense. Naturally, I hadn't considered this possibility before because he's supposed to be dead. Dad saw him die, for fuck's sake! The potion though, the relationship with Dad, and the snarky attitude all make sense this way. He did know Dad while he was in school; he taught him! I don't know how it's possible, but I know who it is.

"Oh dear Merlin…" I whisper softly, still in shock, "I know who you are."

And thank Merlin, the bloody Mediwizard from Saint Mungos chooses that exact moment to burst in the door. I am immediately bustled out of the room and the door is shut and locked behind me before I can protest.

OOOOOOO

I glance at the clock for the fifth time in the past few minutes. 12:48 a.m. I'm still not asleep, despite how exhausted I am at this point. It's been a long day though and I've spent most of it worrying about the Death Eater's well-being.

Or should I say, my namesake's well-being?

I just don't get it—the minute I got home, I looked up his picture and I do think it's him! He looks quite a bit different, but there are similarities and his personality fits the description Dad always gave me to a tee.

So, how did he survive?

And why the hell doesn't anyone know about it?

Good grief, everyone always wondered why his portrait never showed up in the headmaster's office. Now, I know exactly why that is.

The possibility of him really being alive is surreal to me. I used to think about what I'd say to this incredible war hero I had always admired. After I knew where my name came from, I repeatedly asked Dad to tell me his story as a kid. I'm sure Dad was sick of reliving the Final Battle over and over, but he'd still tell me the story, despite whatever reservation he probably had about the matter. I remember hoping that his portrait would magically appear in Professor McGonagall's office every time I visited.

All of this time, he was alive.

I wanted to tell Dad when I got home tonight, but I found him sound asleep in his bedroom already. Normally, this wouldn't be a bad thing, but he definitely forgot to eat dinner tonight; I really dislike the idea of him starving himself, no matter how accidental it may be.

I need to get him to go back to work. Dad is always much better when he has something to do—it takes his mind off the situation and he functions almost normally when busy. When he's at home by himself though, that's when he needs me to care for him. He just can't handle being alone with his thoughts.

In this way, we are both so similar that it's a bit scary.

12:51 a.m. I should really go to bed. I should fix myself a drink so that I'll be able to sleep more easily. However, neither of these options appeal to me because I really don't want to get out of my suede armchair. I'm too tired.

Dad…Severus…my mind is so jumbled that it won't relax. I really should-

The hearth flares in front of me, stopping my mental tirade for a moment.

"Vivs?" I question, suddenly alert, as she steps through the grate. "What are you doing here?"

I automatically assume the worst—he must have died. After all, he was in a bad way! I always wanted to meet him and know him and now he's gone before I ever got the chance-

"Albus," she says walking over to me quickly. She's so short that we are at eye-level with each other when I'm sitting and she's standing. She looks tired and is not dressed in her medical robes, but instead in a deep purple bathrobe that seems to be covering her nightclothes.

She frowns at me and says, "It's not what you think, Albus. He's going to make it, at least, for tonight. Amy just fire-called me to let me know that they've brought him back to his room from Saint Mungo's; they drugged him up a lot to slow the toxins and ease the pain, but he'll last a few more days, by the looks of things."

I look away from her, relieved. Dad needs to know about this. He needs to talk with him—hell, I need that too. I'm dying to get to know him, dying to find out what really happened to him-

"Albus…" Vivian says softly, "I wish they had just let him go. Now he's going to suffer longer."

Oh. Now I feel selfish, wishing for time with him when he probably would be better off dying. I, of all people, should know that, having watched him suffer for the longest minutes of my life today. I still can't believe it was only thirty minutes—it felt like five hours to me…

Vivian puts her hand on top of mine, which is gripping the arm of my chair loosely. I flip my hand over and give hers a small squeeze for reassurance.

"I know who he is, Vivs."

And for the next hour, we pour over books of pictures from the war and talk about how he may or may not be the real Severus Snape. I never even have to leave my seat, which is an added bonus. However, the moment I notice her hand has been carding through my hair for a while, I know that this isn't right.

"Viv," I say, gently brushing her hand away from my brownish-blonde mop, "we can't do this."

"Albus-"

"I can't do this, Viv," I say, shaking my head and wondering how badly this conversation is going to go. It's necessary though—we can't keep going on like this.

"I know what you want, Viv…and I just…I need you to know that we can't have that," I say sadly, looking down at the hardwood flooring and I nervously thread my fingers through my hair, replacing Vivian's.

"But Albus, you're not even giving me a chance," she says softly as she pulls one of my hands out of my hair and holds it between both of her own. "And I know you feel it as well, Albus. I'm not the only one who wants this relationship to go forward. You are just denying yourself and I don't understand why."

Her eyes are sad. I hate myself for hurting her this way, but really, I've got her best interests in mind.

"You know I'm not comfortable talking about it Viv," I whisper, looking her in the eye. "Please don't ask me to."

"Albus, I don't understand what the thing between us has to do with the incident! If it's about your Dad, I already told you I don't mind living with him. I love Harry just as much as I love my own father and I understand your need to make sure he's functioning well… It would even be easier for you to do so if I was here, Albus, because he wouldn't be alone as often-"

"That's not it, Vivs. I don't think I'm being fair to you in this and so I really think you should try to see other-"

"I don't want to see anyone else, you tosser! I'm in love with you!" she proclaims, rather loudly, looking more upset than I think I've ever seen her.

"Vivs, I-"

"See other people, indeed! Don't you think I've tried, Albus? I have! I've been on several dates, hoping to forget about you and I can't! Don't you see, Albus? You're the one I want—the only one! I can't bear to be with anyone else!"

She's crying now. I wish I could make this work—I wish I was someone else; someone who could give her what she wants and make her happy. I wish I could tell her; Merlin, how I wish I could tell her why this is for the best!

Instead, I watch her as she walks toward the Floo, a crying and shaking mess, and watch as she wordlessly disappears into the murky green flames. As I sit in my chair, I keep reminding myself that it was for the greater good.

So, why do I feel so bad?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Please leave a review and let me know what you think and any possible theories. I'm very curious about what people think about this fic. Thanks for reading!

-P.G.


	6. Chapter 6: A Family's Suffering

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Harry Potter and will make no money off my writing._

**Warning: This chapter contains gore.**

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

**Suffering**

_By Ponytail Goddess_

Chapter 6: A Family's Suffering

"_But there is suffering in life, and there are defeats. No one can avoid them. But it is better to lose some of the battles in the struggles for your dreams than to be defeated without ever knowing what you're fighting for."_

_-Paulo Coelho_

"Dad!" I call out from down the hallway as I walk towards the familiar figure of my father. "What are you doing here?"

I don't know why I asked that—the answer is quite obvious.

Still, Dad replies, "Al, you know I need to make amends with-"

"Dad, he's not ready yet! Really, I think you need to go home. You didn't hear him a few days ago when George came to visit-"

"Albus!" he exclaims, grabbing one of my shoulders and looking rather exasperated with me, "I know what I'm doing, son! You're going to have to trust me for once, okay?"

I look Dad straight in the eye and speak rather bluntly, "Dad, you're going to be hurt if you go in there."

I beg him with my eyes to stay out of room 136. I hate seeing him that way—I want to take care of him and make sure he's all right, and this is not conducive to his recovery!

He's got a defiant glint in his eyes though, which tells me he has made up his mind. I sigh and watch him enter room 136, determined to try and make things right, no matter what the cost. I wait outside the door, only to have him come back to me a moment later.

"He's sleeping; I'm going to pull up a chair and wait until he wakes…" Dad starts, then suddenly gets an odd look on his face. I'm not sure if it's confusion or pain, but when his hand clasps his forehead, I know that something is wrong.

Immediately, my hands are on his shoulders and I bring him into the room and sit him down in the corner armchair.

"Dad, what's wrong?" I ask gently. My fear permeates into my voice even though I try my best to disguise it. "Is it a headache?"

Or…what if it's something worse?

"Is it your scar?" I whisper, not even wanting to think about what connotations that might have.

"I'm not sure…quite what it is," Dad answers slowly. He sounds like he's in pain.

I don't want him to suffer. "Stay right here. I'll go get you a Headache Draught."

As I walk down the hall, I see Vivian. She doesn't even look at me. Damn it all, I've really done a number on us this time. I hadn't realized exactly how much time we spent together until she started avoiding me. Now, I just really wish I could take back everything I said so I could talk to her.

Feeling sorry for myself, I quickly stride into the nurse's station and fill out the correct paperwork for a Headache Draught. I'm really not supposed to treat visitors, so I write down that it's for myself; this place certainly does give me plenty of headaches!

I head back to room 136, only to hear angry voices arguing within it. Surprisingly, neither of these voices belongs to my father.

"-no, she still hasn't bloody well come to visit me; she's too fucking busy to come-"

"If you were a little kinder, Ron, I think she'd be willing to come and see you more often-"

The voices stop as I enter the room. Uncle Ron looks rather grouchy that I came through the door. Uncle Percy, on the other hand, always looks grouchy and looks at me down his nose and through his glasses, which are situated at the bottom of his nose.

Dad and I both think those glasses make him look like a snobby old librarian. He doesn't help matters any by acting like one, either.

I look over to the chair my Dad was in and am astonished to find it empty. Where did he go? He was in pain and I told him to stay right there!

Feeling concerned, I look at Percy and ask, "Where did my dad go?"

"Harry?" Percy questions. "I haven't seen him today; have you, Ron?"

"No, and I had better not," Uncle Ron replies, snarky as ever.

"But he was just here—I just left him in this chair a minute ago," I say, pointing at the armchair in the corner. Did he decide to just go home or something? He always tells me when he's leaving...

"He wasn't there when I arrived, Albus," Percy replies. "He's probably off wandering the halls, looking for you."

I nod at him, too deep in thought to answer. I turn away and walk down the hallway, glancing into rooms to see if he might have wandered into one. He's not there, nor is he in the kitchen or either lounge area.

Then, right when I'm about to panic, I decide that I do indeed know where my father is. He's always been one to end up in places where he doesn't belong and I am almost 100 percent certain I'll find him in room 174.

I quickly sprint down the corridor to the Death Eater's room, but stop outside of it when I hear voices within. I am reassured by the lack of curses flying from the room and stop outside the half-open door to listen.

"-isn't possible… I saw you die for fuck's sake!"

"Looks can be deceiving, Potter—you of all people ought to know that by now."

"But you-"

"Potter, do you have any idea how many idiots I saw the Dark Lord sic that bloody snake on? What kind of moron do you think I am? I carried an antidote on me at all times! It was only a matter of time before I would end up on the receiving end-"

"You were dead though! I saw you breathe your last breath; I saw you die! You were lying there dead in a coffin even—what the hell do you call that?"

"Acting. Oh, and I polyjuiced a dead wizard in the tunnel to look like me for the funeral."

"Polyjuice doesn't last that-"

"Mine does, Potter! I'll have you know, I have made numerous contributions to my field over the years and would appreciate if you didn't question my obvious intelligence!"

I find myself leaning against the wall beside the open door as I listen to Severus Snape's biting retorts. Overwhelmed by this new reality, I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the floor beside one of the yellow linen hampers.

My dad sounds like he's in shock as well. "You…do you know who it was?"

"Who?"

"The person you polyjuiced into yourself."

"No."

"Don't you think that's cruel? The family of that person would have never found the body! They'd never know for sure if he or she was really dead!"

"Belt up, Potter! That was years ago—I'm sure they aren't still searching now!"

"Why did you do it anyway? I know I would have rather known you were alive in the end. Minerva could have really used your help-"

"-which is exactly why I didn't want to go back! I couldn't bear another minute in that hellhole!"

"Professor-"

"Don't call me that! I never wanted to be one and I never even tried to do the job well! I was under contract, Potter, and would have needed to spend another two hellish years there if I was 'alive.' It was much more convenient to be dead!"

"But what if Voldemort hadn't died?"

"Then I would have 'magically reappeared' alive. I had to trust you for once, despite the fact that it went against all of my instincts! Luckily for me, you actually pulled it off!"

I roll my eyes at this. He does sound exactly like I had always imagined him sounding. Part of me wants to go in there and be a part of the talk, but the other half of me wonders if they'd really talk about everything I'd like to hear if I was present. After considering this for a moment, I decide to hang outside and eavesdrop.

"I just…I can't believe it's really you…" I hear my dad stutter. "I-What happened to your nose? You don't even look like yourself anymore."

"That would be the first thing you noticed, wouldn't it Potter? I fixed it, _obviously_. I made a potion that softens the bones in the nose for a few minutes. It allowed me to reshape it before it hardened—it was experimental at the time, but clearly worked much better than even I anticipated."

"That's very…impressive. Have you shared that with other people? I imagine it could help loads with people who have been in both physical and magical accidents."

"Ha! I'm one step ahead of you, as usual, Potter! Upon the time of my death, I have charmed a book filled with my discoveries and notes to appear in London's most prestigious lab of potion's science. They can take it from there."

There was a bit of a pause, before I hear my Dad ask a question that has been lingering in my mind. "Are you dying then?" he asks softly. "You're awfully young…"

Another uncomfortable pause ensues. I honestly don't think he'll answer, but just when I am about to give up on him, he does. "Yes…yes, I am. Oh, don't look so abysmal, Potter! You would have been waiting for this moment your entire life if you hadn't already thought I was gone!"

"That's not true!" my father interjects, sounding offended, "Ever since I saw those memories you gave me, I wished I had gotten another chance to speak with you!"

"Hmph. Well, regardless of whether or not that statement is true, no true potions master ever lasts a day past 90. Between the exposure to toxic fumes and testing experiments, their bodies are filled with foreign toxins that no wizard or witch can handle. I am no different when it comes to this matter—in fact, I am probably worse off because I have been poisoned numerous times as a Death Eater, not to mention having sustained serious nerve damage from the Cruciatus Curse. Frankly, it's a miracle that I've lasted as long as I have, so wipe that disgraceful look off your face, boy! I don't want your pity!"

I cringed, as I know my father would probably give it to him anyway.

"There's no way to stop it?"

"No."

"You could make a potion-"

"No—it's my time, Potter. Leave it."

"But-"

"No 'buts,' Potter. Leave it!"

I can tell Snape is angry. For the safety of the entire nursing home, I hope my father is smart enough to let it go.

"It's just a shame, that's all… I mean, you're a war hero, but you never got the chance to be recognized."

"I never wanted any of that; I just wanted to live my life in peace, which is exactly what I did…until now, that is."

I frown upon hearing that. We're making the wizard's life miserable and depriving him of the one thing he wants by having him here. Even though I know we're taking care of him and his stay here is necessary, I start to feel sad.

This doesn't last long though, as I see my supervisor heading down the hallway. Quickly, I Disillusion myself and hope that she doesn't come near the linen hamper. I watch as her white nursing shoes pass by.

Whew. That was close. Quickly, I turn my attention back to the conversation at hand.

"You loved my mum."

Oh dear Merlin, why did Dad have to bring that up? I get my wand ready in case I'm needed.

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Potter."

"Will you tell me about her?"

"I refuse to talk about that with you, Potter. It's none of your damn business."

"How can you say that—she's my mother-"

"Haven't you asked enough pesky questions today?"

"But-"

"Nope, it's your turn to answer my questions, boy. I want to know what the hell happened to your family that was so bad your son can't even talk about it."

Oh, shit! He was coherent when I said all of that?! I didn't think he'd remember! I strain my ears to hear my father's soft tone of voice.

"He told you about that, did he?"

"He said he couldn't talk about it, but I saw it in his head."

"You Legilimized my son? To see that?" My dad asks, clearly appalled.

"It wasn't on purpose—I'm old, Potter! My mind latched onto his, much like it latched onto yours just a while ago. I can't control it anymore, okay? My Legilimency powers are no longer fully in my control."

Quickly, I put two and two together. Snape must have caused my Dad's headache earlier, not to mention putting those unexplainable, mixed-up memories in my own head. It also showed that Snape's powers were fading after all; not his physical magical ability, but his mind powers.

"What did you see?"

"Your wife, dead on the floor."

I nearly curse at the insensitivity that the bastard is showing my father.

"I suppose…well, I suppose I should start from the beginning then."

Dad is going to tell him.

Shock washes over me as my father starts to tell the familiar story—I don't want to hear this! Part of me wants to run in there and tell him not to do this, tell him I can't stand to hear it ever again! The other half of me knows that I'll be in trouble if I do, for eavesdropping on this private conversation.

Fuck!

I don't want to hear this! My Hufflepuff loyalty keeps me glued down in my spot, however, just in case my father needs me. Thus, I slowly find myself reliving the horrors of the incident.

My father starts, his voice soft and hollow sounding. "I was working full-time as an Auror at the time, but it was really more than a full-time job because we were experiencing a lapse in recruits. Basically, I was working many more hours than I ought have been to try and catch everything up—all of the Aurors were.

"Naturally, after a while, Ginny got tired of this—every night I came home late, she'd rant and rave about how I never had any time for her, or Albus and Lily; a speech about how important family was, you know. Stuff I already knew, obviously, but she was mad at me and couldn't let it go. Ginny would sometimes get that way. I'd do my best to remind her it was temporary and would only last until next year's Auror Apprentices graduated, but it only went so far. She'd still Fire-call me at work with the hopes of getting me to come home early sometimes.

"The night it happened was one of those nights. Albus was a first-year Auror's Apprentice at the time and had decided to stay and help me file things when she called.

_I climb up the ladder, carefully balancing several case files in my hand. They are already alphabetized; it is just a matter of putting them away in all the right spots. As I struggle to push the Primfield file into an already overstuffed drawer, my father chuckles at me. "You know, there's a spell for that, Al—you don't have to do it the Muggle way." As he shows me the correct spell maneuver, I hear a rush of flames behind me and gingerly turn around. Mum's head is situated in the middle of the fireplace and she does not look happy. _

"Ginny was mad at me, perhaps even more so than usual because I told her Albus was going to stay with me so he could learn more about the filing system. I had planned on staying there for an extra two hours, but I made a compromise for her sake and told her we'd both be home in exactly one. One hour. We were only there for one extra hour, but one hour was really all the time it took.

"_You had better not be lying to me, Harry James Potter! I want to see my son today and Lily is dying to show you the painting she's been working on for the last week." _

"_I'll be there, okay? Give us one hour to get some of this mess filed and I promise we'll both be home for a family dinner, Sweetie," my dad says, practically begging. I dislike it when Mum makes him seem pathetic like this, but his giving in does seem to calm her down a bit._

"_Okay then—as long as it's only an hour," she says, still clearly upset about the compromise. Her face disappears from the smoldering flames of our fireplace._

"Albus and I stayed and worked for the next 55 minutes, after which we stopped and went to one of the Apparition Points in the Auror wing—had a quick chat with Ed, who guards the Point during second shift, then we quickly Apparated home.

"When I first caught sight of the house that night, I felt fear—fear like I'd never felt before. The Dark Mark was floating above our house.

"_Dad, you can't be serious!" I say with a laugh as we appear in the street, both facing away from our house. My laugh tapers off quite quickly as I register that something is wrong. It's way too quiet out here. We both whip around and my body goes cold with fear when I see a transparent green snake and skull floating above our house, distorting the beautiful sunset behind it._

_It's surreal._

_My heart beats faster. I watch as my father takes off running frantically towards the house. Somehow, I'm following him, though I don't know how I have the strength. Dad's already up the steps and he casts Alohomora so forcefully, that the doorknob bangs into the wall on the other side. I hardly hear it though, over Dad's screams for Mum._

"I ran into the house, but it was too late. Ginny was dead in the kitchen. It…it looked like she put up a fight because she was clearly wounded before the Avada Kedavra finished her off."

_I run around the bend, into the kitchen, only to find my father on his knees. He whispers 'no' over and over again as he slowly crawls towards her body, smearing the puddle of blood over the tiles. I walk over and quickly kneel down to take her pulse. Her neck is still warm, but the pulse isn't there._

_Mum's dead. Her eyes are staring up at the ceiling, but aren't seeing a thing. She looks as shocked as Dad; even in death, her arm is still stiffly held upward, as if she was caught trying to fight back. Clearly, there had been a bit of a scramble, as several things in the kitchen had suffered explosions and Mum, well…Mum has sustained some deep cuts all over her body. This explains all of the blood staining the white-tiled floor and matting down some of her hair. It was almost as if the perpetrator had cast-_

"Sectumsempra. She was attacked with Sectumsempra," I hear my dad say from far off in the distance. "I was too distraught to do anything after that, but luckily, Albus remembered to go and find his sister."

_Oh Merlin, my sister! Oh please, don't let my sister be dead too! I swallow down the bile in my throat as I frantically run out of the room and up the stairs. I hold my wand in front of me with a shaking fist, as I sneak down the hallway towards Lily's room. _

_What if she's dead in there? What if-_

_I kick the door open and scan the scene. No one. I quickly check under the bed and in the closet. She's not here. I do the same in all the other bedrooms as well as the bathroom._

_She's gone; Merlin!_

_Scenarios worse than her death are rolling through my head now: kidnapping, rape… Oh dear Merlin, please let it not be so! Please!_

"_LILY!" I scream, too scared to be cautious any longer, "LILY!"_

_I run through the house, searching and searching; I have to find her! I refuse to stop until I've found her. As I become more and more desperate, I find myself screaming out, "POINT ME LILY POTTER!"_

_And Point Me it does. The arrow points towards the one place I haven't looked yet—the cupboard under the stairs. _

_I race over and try to yank the door open, only to find it locked. Frustrated, I cast Alohomora so heartily that the door explodes off the cupboard. Dust billows around as I get down on my knees and prepare to enter the cabinet as best as my 19 year-old body can manage. _

_I hear a whimper._

_Curled up in the furthest corner from is my sister. I finally feel like I can take a breath—there she is. Alive. Alive, but scared. Alive, nonetheless. She appears unharmed, but I still find myself asking, "Lily, are you okay?"_

_She just whimpers and puts her head down on her knees. I notice that her fingers are gripping her knees so tightly that tiny droplets of blood have appeared in a few places. _

_I don't know what to do. I whisper her name, and then slowly reach for her hand. When I touch her, she panics and pulls away, looking at me with a wild look in her eyes. Not knowing what to do, but not wanting to scare her even more, I quickly pull myself out of the cupboard and go to Floo the Aurors. _

"Albus found her, alive and unhurt, thankfully. She was so scared though, that she stayed in the cupboard for over an hour until James was summoned from Hogwarts. I don't know what he said, but he was able to get her out.

"We never found out exactly what happened to Lily that night either: how she got under the stairs, if she heard what was going on, if Ginny locked her there for protection…we don't know. Lily has always been unwilling to talk about her experience, and I don't think that will ever change. The whole thing was traumatizing for everyone involved, so I don't blame her.

My stomach churns as I listen to Dad go on and on. Really, I'm only half listening though as I keep picturing Mum's eyes, the Dark Mark, and the cupboard. I have such a hard time dealing with all of it, so much so that I have most often chosen to simply avoid it. When I don't think about it, I can keep going, but now…now I'm definitely done for the day.

"-they blamed it all on me, you see—James and Lily. I was so messed up then, I knew I couldn't take care of Lily, who was still 16 at the time. James had just completed his Astronomy Apprenticeship and was making good money, so he took her during her last year at Hogwarts. I thought I was doing the right thing by signing her away, but then they turned on me and I haven't seen them since…"

Now he's breaking down.

"It's been over 15 years and they still won't talk to me…it's almost like I lost them too," Dad babbles. A tear rolls down my cheek as I listen to Dad's pain.

"Potter-"

"I just don't understand why this happened! She was my wife and I don't know how to live without her!"

"Potter-"

"I mean, how did you get over Lily, Snape? I just don't think I can-"

"Potter!"

"-I mean, I don't get why all of these bad things have happened to my family! Don't we deserve some happiness too? Don't we deserve not to suff-"

"POTTER! For fuck's sake, put a sock in it and listen for once in your life!"

"Why the hell should I listen to you, you greasy-"

"Potter, if you think you're the only family suffering in this life, you're even more vain than I thought! Just take a look at the Weasleys, for Merlin's sake: Ron, Percy, George… They've all been in messes during their lives and you bloody well know it! All you have to do is stick around here and I'm sure you'll hear Ronald scream at someone during some point of the day—clearly, his life isn't filled with daisies and roses!"

"Yeah, well he's in here because of me-"

"No, he's not! I heard the story from your Hufflepuff son—it's not your bloody fault, no matter how many times that idiot yells at you!"

"How do you know that?"

"Are you suggesting that your son lied to me?"

"No, I'm suggesting that my son has a big mouth!"

"A big mouth you ought to pay more attention to, obviously! If you'd kindly take your head out of your arse for a moment, you'd be able to hear the truth in the things he says!"

"Take my head out of my…?! I'm warning you, Snape-"

"Well, your head must be somewhere because you can't seem to see all of the good things your life has dealt you, even amid the bad!"

"What are you on about?"

"I'm talking about your son's loyalty and how he has stuck beside you—is that not a good thing, Potter? You still have your job, your health… All you ever do is look at the bad things life has dealt you. If you'd look at the good things once in a while, you wouldn't be so fucking miserable!"

"Oh, that's fucking rich coming from you, Snape!"

"You wanted my advice, Potter, so here it is! I have overcome every obstacle in my life by moving on. I left behind my parents and the terrible childhood I had—don't you dare deny it, Potter! I know you saw those memories! I got over your mother the same way-"

"Liar! You never did get over my mum; you were pining for her even at the time of your fake death!"

"Yeah, well I could hardly get over it when I was constantly working towards fulfilling my promise to Dumbledore, namely protecting your sorry arse, you bloody troublemaker! Once I saw that you were going to be safe and free to live your own life, I was free to let it go."

My dad pauses, then softly says, "I didn't think you'd ever let it go. I mean, you begged her to come back…"

"Have you asked your kids to come back, Potter? To come and visit?"

"I did…at first. I gave up hope after a while though…"

"You could always try again. I always used to wish that I could have tried again. Maybe if I'd kept asking, she would have forgiven me."

"Hmph…then you probably would have been my father."

"Potter, I know for a fact that I would have never spawned someone quite like you."

Dad chuckles a bit at this. He still sounds sad, but…perhaps a bit hopeful as well?

"Do you think I should try again?"

"It couldn't hurt. They may have matured."

"And you think I'll get better…like you?"

When Dad asks that question, I find myself thinking about several people in my life who have suffered. Uncle George comes to mind; Uncle George overcame all odds when his twin Fred died. He had to learn to do things by himself—he was used to always having someone there to finish his sentences and practically read his mind. He had to learn to be alone.

He did. He survived his suffering.

Uncle Percy blamed himself for Fred's death. He always thought it was his fault, for years and years, but was finally able to let it go.

Time can heal our suffering too, just like it healed Uncle Percy's.

And Vivian…Vivian's sister had died when she was just a child. She apparently had a very bad case of Dragonpox; they were so bad that they appeared on the inside of her throat, which swelled up and suffocated the poor little girl. Vivian despaired over her loss for the longest time, but it was her mother who had continually hoped that their life would get better.

Surrounded by that hope, Vivian got on with her life.

All around me, there are people in different parts of their lives: some suffering, some getting over it, some experiencing the best time of their lives… Life has all of those things; without them, it wouldn't be life.

Perhaps the Death Eater is right…perhaps Dad and I need to work harder to get our family back together. Maybe if we keep trying, things will heal.

Maybe our wounds will scab over.

Dad and the Death Eater continue to talk, about Grandma Lily, from the sound of things. I have heard enough though to trust that they will be okay and not kill each other. Finally, my legs have stopped shaking from my recollection of the incident and I stand up, cancelling my Disillusionment Spell as my back cracks back into a comfortable position.

I still don't feel well, so I go to Amy and plead sick. A few minutes later, I find myself kicking off my shoes and lying down in my bed. I can still see Mum lying on the floor, but I also consider the Death Eater's advice as I lie there lifelessly, hoping for sleep to overtake me.

Maybe, just maybe…everything will turn out all right.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

So, what do you think? Please review and let me know. This is not the end of the story, even though it kind of sounds that way. There's still one chapter and the epilogue to go. Unfortunately, those probably won't be out until July because I start my summer camp job tomorrow. It will get finished this summer though! Thanks for reading!

-P.G.


	7. Chapter 7: The Suffering of Albus

Hi, welcome back to "Suffering!" I'm sorry it's been so long--I spent my summer working at a residential camp and am now starting my very first teaching job. Yeah, so life has been pretty much insane for the last two months. Anyways, please enjoy my latest chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter series and will make no money off my writing.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

**Suffering**

_By Ponytail Goddess_

Chapter 7: The Suffering of Albus

"_When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, 'til it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn."_

_-Harriet Beecher Stowe_

I find that I have a small bounce in my step today as I make my first set of rounds. When I woke up and went downstairs to make breakfast this morning, I came face to face with someone I hadn't expected to ever see again.

My dad.

Well, he wasn't quite back to normal, but his eyes were glistening with life and that was enough for me to notice a difference. He wasn't a zombie anymore; in fact, he had even made himself some porridge and was eating it without any prodding upon my arrival. No words could possibly describe my shock at seeing this.

When I asked about his plans for the day, he had told me he wanted to look into going back to work on a part-time, paperwork-only basis. He Flooed over to the Auror's Department right before I left and is hopefully getting reinstated right now. I think this will be good for him and I'm really happy that he seems to realize he needs to take it slow.

The only bad part about my father being well again was that he asked about Viv. It was easy enough to lie and say that we were only friends, though I'm not quite sure he bought it. As a Hufflepuff, lying has never been my forte. Whether he noticed it or not, he did let it go, for which I am rather grateful.

"Mr. Snape," I say, greeting my patient as I enter room 174. "How are you feeling today?"

"Could you say that any louder, boy? I never said you could use my given name!"

I am unsurprised upon hearing his recrimination.

"Why does it matter?" I shoot back, unphased. "I already know who you are."

"Just because you know, doesn't mean I want the whole damn world to! I kept it a secret for a reason, boy, and I expect your confidentiality when it comes to this matter."

Annoyed, I reply, "Well, what should I call you then?"

"Sir, John Doe—make something up! Do I look like I give a rat's arse?"

"Well…looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," I reply, irritated by his snark. I quickly uncork his pain potions so I can escape a bit faster. I don't want him to spoil my good mood.

"Hmph, I didn't have to wake up because I never went to sleep! That new witch down the hall kept yelling for help all night and no one bothered to silence her door!"

I narrow my eyes at his lack of understanding. "She was just having a hard night—this place is hard to get used to at first. You of all people should know that."

"Thankfully, I won't be here much longer to put up with it," he said, then shakily grabbed his copy of the Prophet and levitated it in front of his face for easy reading.

I can't believe I just heard that! "Must you be so morbid? You can't really feel that way!"

"I most certainly can and do, Mr. Potter. The sooner I'm out of this hellhole, the better; I thought we already went over this."

"Yes, sir," I say, remembering how depressed he must be, since he wanted to spend the remainder of his life alone and in peace. "Just please, please don't say that again."

"Why not?" he asked, looking me straight in the eye over his newspaper.

Was this some sort of test?

Not knowing quite how to reply to that, I finally say, "I don't want you to die, sir. I'm sure my dad doesn't want you to either; not now that he's finally gotten to see you again."

"Well, people don't always get what they want in life. I'm pretty sure you heard me spell that out quite clearly yesterday," Snape replied, staring at me knowingly.

How the hell…? "How did you know?"

"That you were eavesdropping? I could feel your presence." He touches his head as he says this, reminding me of his Legilimency powers, dying though they were.

"Did you hear what you wished to hear?" he asks me, one eyebrow cocked up suspiciously. "Or were you hoping for me to give you some advice as well?"

I am silent, as I don't really know what to make of his speech. He's looking at me so deeply that I feel as though he's looking into my soul with his dark eyes. It is a test and I don't know whether or not I'm passing.

In the end, I find I don't have to say anything.

"As it turns out," Snape finally says, "I do have some advice for you; however, the time is not appropriate for such a lesson. Come back after dinner and I will tell you what you need to know."

He sounds so sure of himself—cocky, really. I turn and leave after he takes his potions, feeling rather disturbed about his new behavior.

Great, now instead of worrying about Dad all day, I'm going to worry about Snape. Just what I need, another thing to worry about. With Viv still not talking to me, I had really hoped that today would be very uneventful because my mind still isn't totally focused on my work. Really, I'm not sure if it will ever be while she's mad at me.

I wish I didn't have so many problems…and judging from the sounds coming from around the corner, my day was about to get a bit worse. The clicking noises of several sets of feet were promptly getting closer to me, along with many recognizable voices.

"Minister, can you tell me about the new bill-"

"-and how Harry Potter was involved-"

"-how is your husband holding up?"

For a moment, I contemplate hiding. Only for a moment though. Whispering, I quickly conjured up a Patronus to alert security and send it off with haste. Then, already knowing my fate, I round the corner to see a very familiar face approaching me.

"Aunt Hermione," I exclaim, happy to see a familiar face amid a herd of cattle. "I didn't know you were coming today!"

"Albus," she says to greet me, then immediately wraps me in a warm hug. Cameras flash around us and reporters are now directing questions towards me as well, but I close my eyes and ignore it, soaking up my aunt's love as long as possible.

As I pull away, I am relieved to see that the security guard has arrived and is showing the press to the door. Thank goodness.

Once the press is out of earshot, Aunt Hermione automatically starts firing questions at me. "How's Ron? Has he spoken with Harry yet? Is Harry holding up okay?" she asks anxiously.

"Ron is still in bed and still refusing to try and move his legs—he won't let me come near him. Dad, being Dad, has been in for visits on multiple occasions, but Ron usually yells at him until I pull him out of the room."

"Damn it," Aunt Hermione whispers under her breath.

"Dad hasn't been taking it well for the last two weeks," I say, unsure as to whether or not I should tell her about Severus.

"I'm sorry about Ronald. I know that's the last thing Harry needs right now. I'll try and talk some sense into him, but you know how he is… He'll have to come to terms with things in his own time."

I nod as Hermione looks at me sadly. "I could come and talk to your dad too. He's still blaming himself, isn't he?"

I nod.

"I knew it," Hermione said, looking frustrated. "Make sure you remind him that I know he did a good job of covering Ron when they were making the bust. Nobody could have known that there were so many illicit brewers keeping guard. Considering the circumstances, I think it's a miracle that they both lived to tell the tale."

"No matter how many times you tell him that, he still won't believe you. Trust me, I've tried. He's just used to taking the blame when something goes wrong," I say sadly. "He's trying though and he did go back to work today. That's a start."

"He did?" Hermione asked with raised eyebrows. "Good for him. He needs to stop wallowing in his guilt and get something done."

"That's exactly what I think."

"Good—well, I should go and see Ron since I haven't been around in a couple of weeks. Say hi to Harry for me and tell him that I'll be by to chat as soon as I can make some time," Hermione said, giving me another quick hug.

"Take care," I tell her as she walks slowly down the hall to room 136. I only hear the first two words of Uncle Ron's inevitable rant before the door magically slams shut and leaves the hallway silent.

I sigh and head into the break room for a quick dinner. Much to my surprise and dismay, I find Vivian already picking through a salad at one of the tables. When I sit beside her with my own dinner, she gets up and moves to another table.

My heart breaks all over again. Words cannot describe how much that simple action hurt me. I wanted to tell her about Dad. I wanted…

I wanted to apologize.

I don't though. Clearly, she does not want my presence tonight and so I finish my dinner rather quickly, then move onto helping distribute the patient's meals. I am so distracted by Vivian's rejection that I find myself merely going through the motions of work instead of actually doing my job. Somehow, I can sense that I'm already out of commission for the night.

To make matters worse, I soon find myself cornered by Mae, who assaults me with accusations about Vivian and what I must have done to ruin the obvious romance between us. I am about ready to _Avada_ myself into oblivion when the fire alarm, of all things, goes off.

Damn it all! Mae panics and I quickly levitate her and another nearby patient out the door and across the street to safety. I run back in and corner my boss Amy as she heads for the door, levitating Opal on her bed.

"Why didn't you tell me we were having a fire drill today?" I ask, panicking a bit as I see elderly wizards and witches heading for the door without assistance.

Amy pushes past me though and calls back, "It's not a drill, Albus; there's smoke in the far hall! Go Floo Emergency Wizarding Services!"

As if on cue, storm clouds form above our heads and start raining heavily—the sprinkler system seems to be working, much to the dismay of the elderly witches trying to get out of the building. I quickly sprint away to get help.

Slipping and sliding my way down the tiled hallway, I somehow make it into the break room and grab a heaping handful of Floo powder. I frantically throw it into the fire and watch as it flares green before my eyes. Then I'm on my knees shoving my head into the flames to give the EWS our address.

Within a minute, I'm up again, wiping streams of water off of my face. I only manage to make the situation worse though by sticking some of the leftover Floo powder on my face. It sticks and itches, but I ignore it as best I can as I turn to jog down the hallway.

"_Lumos!"_ I shout and instantly a bright light shines from my wand. I go down the hall quickly, pulling open doors and checking for patients in the darkened rooms. All of the water has put out the torches that normally light the place. The further I get down the hallway, the heavier the smell of smoke becomes.

Dear Merlin, it really is a real fire!

I catch a slight motion out of the corner of my eye and immediately open up the locked storage room to check for patients.

"_Alohomora!"_

I yank the door open, only to be pulled in by an invisible force. The door's lock clicks behind me at the same time as a wand pushes into my throat violently. I look up and find myself face to face with Severus Snape, looking more like a Death Eater than ever.

"Severus..." I say quietly, scared of what he might do to me. His eyes are dark and shining with malice. "What are you doing in here?"

"Leaving," he says simply, his eyes and wand remaining steadily on me.

Oh dear Merlin, he intends to _Apparate_. Seeing as he's having a hard time simply holding himself up, I can't help but worry about the outcome of this.

"Severus, let me help you out of here. There's a fire-"

"I know. I started it."

My eyes widen. This was premeditated. He had needed a distraction and this most certainly was one. "Severus, you can't be serious-"

The wand jabs even harder into my throat, forcing me to cough. "Oh, I've never been more serious about anything. I am not dying in this hellhole! Surely you understand this, boy. Let me go and die in peace!"

I understand his logic and even feel for his plight. A war hero should have a choice in how he wishes to spend the remainder of his time on Earth. However, I sincerely believe he is going to Splinch himself if he tries this now. I can feel the wand wavering against my neck. He may have mustered up the willpower to drag himself out of bed and down the hallway, but he has exerted too much of his strength already. Quickly, I search my head for a reason to make him stay, something…anything!

"You helped my father out—please don't leave him now. Honor your promise to Albus Dumbledore to help him-"

"Trying to guilt trip me, are you? Perhaps there is a bit of Slytherin in you after all! Too bad I'm not going to fall for it. I already honored that pledge and Albus Dumbledore is long dead—there is nothing more I can do for your father. He must now help himself."

Great. I dig desperately for something more. "You promised to give me advice," I finally say, rather lamely. "Come on outside and tell me what I need to do. You helped my dad and now you can help me."

Snape cracks a sideways smirk, which worries me. "No need to do that; my advice for you isn't as conventionally given as your father's was. I can tell you it right here, right now."

"Please Severus, we are going to burn up!" I beg him.

"Aren't you curious about how I got in here and got my wand, all undetected?" he asks, ignoring my pleas.

"Severus-"

"I have not been able to walk well for some time, so I flew—which is one of the only useful things I learned from being in the Dark Lord's service, mind you."

I stare at him in the dark, his face barely illuminated by my wand, which is laying at my side where I dropped it. Droplets pour down his emaciated cheeks and his clumpy hair is plastered to his face.

I stare at him in awe. He is strong enough to fly, something that most wizards are not strong enough to accomplish, even when in their most powerful adult years. Severus did it without his wand. Surely this wizard is one of the most powerful of his kind today.

"The fire was easily lit and I cast it so that it would magically resist water. A nice little trick, wouldn't you say?

"Next, I _disillusioned_ myself and flew down the hall, somehow avoiding all of those obnoxious, panicking fools. But guess, Potter, who saw through my act? Guess who stood in my way?"

The dim light from my wand hits his black eyes eerily. I am so focused on trying to read his face that I jump when something small and light hits my lap. My eyes flash downward to see a wand in my lap. A small wand, made of light, unfinished wood.

"Vivian," I whisper.

"It was all too easy to disarm her. Really, I worked much too hard to have my plans squandered by a Gryffindor."

My mouth falls open as I put two and two together. "She's still in here, isn't she? You knocked her unconscious," I say slowly, my hard starting to pound furiously within my chest.

Fear. I've never felt it quite so acutely before. At least, not since the incident.

"Oh dear Merlin," I whisper to myself, then look up at him as a fire burns within me. "What did you do to her?!" I scream, my anger no longer in check.

"Rest assured, Mr. Potter, I did not 'knock her unconscious' as you have assumed. I did, however, take the liberty of locking her in a closet so she would not spoil my getaway. I suggest you go find her, before the fire does."

He steps away and I stumble to my feet, never taking my eyes away from him. "What closet?" I ask, feeling rather panicked. She could suffocate in there, for Merlin's sake! Suffocate or even worse!

"You know, my memory just isn't quite what it should be these days, Potter. I suppose you'll have to figure that one out for yourself," he says, looking amused.

"She could die, you bastard-"

"Then you better stop wasting your time on me, boy, and go find her!" He exclaims, his eyes wide with accusation.

I am torn for a few seconds between dragging him out and going to find Viv. Damn it all, I know what I have to do, but still, even after all this chaos, I don't want to see my childhood hero go.

"If you Splinch yourself, I'll never forgive you."

"You need not worry about me, Mr. Potter. I have never Splinched myself during my life and I certainly don't plan to start today. Now go and find your pretty girlfriend before it's too late."

And then, with a wave of his wand, he's gone.

"SHIT!" I exclaim, and the grab our two wands and cry out, _"LUMOS!"_

Both wands respond to me and light the hallway quite nicely as I slide through the rain and carelessly discarded items. I'm headed into the smoke. Coughing, I duck down and quickly unlock the first closet I come to.

Nothing.

My eyes are burning now, as the smoke gets thicker. I can feel myself starting to sweat, despite the cold water pouring down on me. There's no one behind the next door either. Frantically, I carry on. Whether she likes me or not, I could not live with myself if something happened to her—I have to find her and fast!

I grab the next closet door and low and behold, this one won't open with _Alohomora_. I bang on the door violently and scream, "Vivian! Vivian, are you okay?! VIVIAN!"

Quickly, I rack my brain for other unlocking spells and have no luck opening it. Nothing seems to be working! Hysterically, I grab the doorknob and try to jerk the door open, not knowing what else to do. I turn it, pulling as hard as I possibly can; yanking with all of my strength to try and save the treasure within.

Suddenly I'm falling fast. Sharp pain shoots through my skull and a heavy weight lands atop me. The whole world seems to spin around me as my head throbs fiercely. I close my eyes and moan as voices call my name. The sound echoes in my ears and makes my head hurt worse. Then it all fades to nothing.

OOOOOOO

Warm fingers stroke my arm languidly. My head hurts. Darkness gives way to bright light. When I open my eyes, I find Viv beside my bed.

"Albus?" she whispers softly, "can you hear me, sweetheart?"

I groan and close my eyes again. The light is too bright and is making my head throb violently. I feel as if I might vomit if the light doesn't go away.

When I open my eyes though, it's gone. In the much dimmer light, I carefully inspect Viv, who is silently staring at me. She looks terrible. Her normally kempt hair has transformed into a frizzy, blonde afro and she has a trail of makeup flowing from each of her eyes.

Her hand is warm on my arm and her eyes are filled with concern for me. "What happened?" I somehow manage to croak.

"You were trying to get me out of the closet and when the door came open, you fell and slammed your head on a metal cart. You had a concussion and passed out—you really gave us all a scare for a little while there, Albus," she said, leaning in to touch my forehead with her hand.

"Fire?" I question, still feeling groggy and disoriented.

"The fire wasn't real, Albus. It was an illusion that looked real, and released real heat and smoke, but was not real. The EWS got rid of it quite easily and no one other than you was hurt."

I breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin you're all right…" I murmur. "I thought you might suffocate in…in the closet. I thought you might die."

Viv's hand squeezes my own tightly as I imagine what the worst-case scenario of tonight's chaos could have been. "The closet was charmed to not let any smoke or fire in, dear. Professor Snape planned this mess quite immaculately, though I'm not sure just why he did it. The Aurors came in earlier to talk to me, but I didn't know what to tell them."

Vivian looks at me, clearly hoping for some sort of answer. I oblige her. "He wanted to escape; he planned a way out so he wouldn't have to die in the nursing home. I caught him in a storage closet, stealing his wand. Of course, those aren't included in the anti-apparition barrier, so…"

I trail off as my head starts spinning a bit. Viv has already put two and two together. "He got away," she says distantly. "He really is a master of magic."

Something else dawns on me and my eyes widen when I realize I've forgotten something very important. "The Aurors came… Where's Dad?"

Once again, Vivian somehow manages to soothe my panicking by squeezing my hand. "He's here, Albus. It's okay; he's here and he's safe."

I start to sit up so I can look around the room to see Dad, only to be pushed gently back onto the bed by Vivian. "He's out in the waiting room—I'd go get him, but the nurses had to dose him with a calming draught earlier and I think they gave him a bit too much because he's out cold."

"How much did they give him?" I mumble, suddenly feeling as if I could sick up at any moment. Trying to get up had definitely been a bad idea.

"A lot," Vivian says with a sad smile. "He was really worried about you. I doubt he'll be awake before tomorrow morning."

We sit in silence for a while. I manage to get my stomach back under control while Vivian watches over me like the golden-haired angel she is. "Albus," she finally says, "Lily also came by-"

"Lily?" I question in shock. Lily came voluntarily?

"Yes, she heard about the accident on the wireless and wanted to make sure you were all right."

I try to think about the connotations of that, but it just makes my head spin. I put my other hand over Vivian's hand and close my eyes for a moment.

"Did Dad see her?"

"Harry was already out cold when she came. She said couldn't stay long because she needed to get back to her kids, but it sounded like she might try and come back tomorrow."

I frown. "Don't I get to leave tomorrow?"

"The Mediwizard wasn't sure you'd be recovered enough by tomorrow. I think you're going to need to take some time off work, Al. It's going to take you a while to recover from all of this—stop frowning, dear. I'll come by to help with your dad. We'll make it work, okay?"

I find myself confused. "I thought…I thought you were mad at me, Vivs. Why are you helping me after I hurt you?"

Vivian's eyes droop a bit, but she still manages to smile at me sadly. "I told you, Albus. I love you. That's all there is to it," she says quietly and slowly.

Merlin, I've hurt her…

I don't know what to do to make it right.

She's doing so much for me though, so much and I don't deserve any of it. Maybe it's time for me to give her a bit more of me, even if it hurts.

I put my other hand on top of her hand that is already holding mine. I look her in the eyes and for once, I actually find myself saying what I feel. "I love you too, Viv," I whisper, cradling her hand gently between both of mine.

Vivian looks right back at me, uncertainty painted all over her face. She doesn't know where this is going. Really, I'm not sure if I do either, but I know what needs to be said.

"I love you…and that's why I'm scared."

"Scared of what?" she whispers, her eyes wide with morbid curiosity and just a hint of fear. She knows that this is what she's been waiting to hear, even if it's really horrible.

The look in her eyes takes me back to the kitchen, back to the cupboard under the stairs, back to that fateful night… I wish I could forget it, but now I know the horror is so deeply ingrained in my memory that I never will.

"They never caught him, you know…"

"Caught who?" she asks, staring at me intensely. "Tell me, Albus. I want to know."

"The wizard who killed my mum," I whisper. "He's still out there."

Vivian clutches my hand even tighter. "Albus…"

"And…and if something like that happened to you, Viv, I don't know what I'd do."

"Albus, nothing is going to happen-"

"You can't guarantee that!" I exclaim, horrified that she doesn't understand. "Don't you think that's what my dad thought up until it happened?! Nobody thinks these things will happen to them, but they do! They do!"

"Quiet down, there are patients trying to sleep in the next room," Vivian reprimands, even as she wipes a stray tear away from her eye.

"Nobody knows who did it, Viv," I say a bit more softly, but still trying to get my point across solidly. "He's still out there. It could have been a Death Eater—no one knows how many of them are still out there, unpunished and uncaught. The press is always after my Dad and his family, including me, even though I don't ever do anything that deserves the spotlight. Dad's even had a couple of stalkers back in the day; fans who were so obsessed with him that they'd stop at nothing to meet him.

"The bottom line is that it's not safe to live with me, Viv. I love you, but if you were hurt or died because of being associated with me and my dad, I don't think I could live with myself."

"Oh Albus…" Vivian sniffles, tears falling down her face unabashedly now. She brings her other hand up to my face and I feel its warmth as she runs it across my cheek, leaving behind a tingly sensation more magical than anything a wand could produce.

Her face comes close to mine and I shut my eyes as I feel her breath on my chin. Warm lips gently come in contact with mine, then pull away with a soft smack. I feel her lips brush mine as she murmurs my name again. I can taste the minty gum she must have chewed as she makes me shudder with her kisses and soft touches.

A moment later, she gently pulls away, taking my hand again and holding it loosely. We sit in silence again. I keep my eyes closed and imagine what we'd be like together if we married; I think we'd be very happy together. The thought is bittersweet to me.

I find myself starting to drift back into sleep again, when Vivian squeezes my hand again. I open my eyes and look at her expectantly.

"Albus… You once told me that your dad thought his years married to Ginny were the best in his life."

"Yes, they were."

"Do you think he regrets marrying her?"

I do a double take. "Of course not! Why would you ask that?"

"Albus, I already knew the answer to that question. You're the one who needs to realize that Harry and Ginny had a good life together. They were married for what, 20-some years before she died. She had three beautiful children and together, your mum and dad raised them with love. How could your dad regret that?"

Vivian leans in close and looks me in the eyes. "Albus, can't we just enjoy whatever time we have? I don't want to regret losing you."

"But I don't want to lose you either-"

"Isn't it worth the risk, Albus? I would rather spend 20 happy years with you than 100 unhappy ones without!" she proclaims. "Please!"

I feel my heart being twisted within my chest. "Viv, I…"

"Please," she whispers pitifully.

It's over. Hell, it was over before it had begun. One kiss to her hand later and I find myself virtually engaged to the woman I love.

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All comments are welcome--stay tune for the Epilogue!

-P.G.


	8. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Harry Potter and will not make any money off of this writing.

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**Suffering**

_By Ponytail Goddess_

Epilogue

**WAR HERO'S PORTRAIT MYSTERIOUSLY APPEARS AT HOGWARTS **

**Authorities Conclude that Headmaster Snape was Not Dead**

BY RUDOLPH SKEETER

_SCOTLAND – Hogwarts staff members were astounded today when a portrait of Headmaster Severus Tobias Snape appeared in the Headmaster's office 46 years after his death._

_When asked about this mysterious occurrence, the portrait claimed to have only just died the day before, implying that Snape did not die during the Battle of Hogwarts, despite having eyewitnesses who claim otherwise._

"_Everyone assumed he hadn't appeared in there because of his ties to Voldemort," reported Chief Historian of Magic Winston Weatherby. "It turns out that he simply was not dead."_

_According to Hogwarts: A History, Professor Severus Snape died after receiving a poisonous snakebite to the neck during the Final Battle of Hogwarts on May 2, 1998. Eyewitnesses to this event include Auror Harry Potter and Minister of Magic Hermione Granger-Weasley._

_Snape's body was recovered by authorities on May 3, 1998 and was buried on the first annual Magical Equality Day, May 6, 1998. Authorities are making plans to exhume this casket because of its questionable contents._

_Snape's portrait has been generally uncooperative and would not answer any more questions from authorities. A search team has been formed to look for his natural body. If proven correct, Snape really lived until he was 84. _

_Severus Tobias Snape is best known for being a Death Eater, who turned into a spy for the Order of the Phoenix during Voldemort's second-coming. After the death of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Snape was the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Magic from 1997 until 1998, when he died during the Battle of Hogwarts at the age of 38._

I sigh as I reread the article Spell-o-taped to the announcement board in our kitchen for the umpteenth time. It's been there for the last two months and is starting to show some wear and tear from being jostled by grocery lists and calendars.

Using care, I detach the fragile paper from the wall and set it on my desk, adding it to a growing pile of newspaper clippings, all concerning my namesake. I save everything about him and have even gone out of my way to research his newly-found potions developments.

Why? He's my hero. No one else could have brought my dad out of the hole he dug himself into. He threw a rope down to my father and he's been climbing out of that deep hole ever since.

"Albus!"

Speaking of Dad…

"Albus," he says, rounding the corner in front of me, "is this okay?"

I shake my head. "Too formal—it's only brunch, Dad…"

Dad looks torn at my advice. "But Al, I haven't seen her in-"

"I know, I know," I say, cutting him off. "It doesn't matter though—they are not going to be dressed up and you're going to want to spend time on your broom once they are here."

Dad still looks undecided. "Dad, put on a nice sweater. I'm sure you'll look fine."

"Okay… I just want to make sure I make a good first impression," he says. He looks a bit nervous.

I put my hand on Dad's shoulder. "It's going to be okay."

He smiles sadly at me. "I've waited for this moment for years, Albus. Now that it's here, I don't know quite what to do."

My hand slides off my dad's shoulder and pulls him into a quick, one-armed hug. "They'll love you, Dad. Just wait and see."

With a smile, Dad heads back up the stairs to change again.

Feeling a bit insecure about my appearance, I walk over to the decorative mirror in our living room and look myself over. My dirty blonde locks refuse to be tamed, as always. Other than that, I feel I look pretty good.

"Very attractive, dearie. Your tan looks quite nice," says the mirror, which also seems pleased with my appearance.

I suck in a nervous breath before turning away. I find myself overly aware of the many things that can go wrong today. I couldn't stand it if Dad is disappointed in some way. I can only hope that what we are about to do is the right thing and that everything will go according to plan for a change.

There isn't any time left to contemplate such wrongs, however, as I hear the popping of four bodies penetrating our Apparition Barrier. A child's voice rings out, loud and clear behind the door as my father's feet pound down the stairs at the speed of light.

Dad joins me and we approach the door slowly as magical chimes ring through the house, announcing the presence of our guests. Dad looks like hell; he has a lot to lose if this doesn't work out right. I hope it works.

_Oh please, let it work._

I start to feel ill as my hand reaches for the doorknob. However, I know this is best for all of us, no matter how hard it is in the beginning.

I open the door and see the last people I'd ever expect. An uncomfortable silence ensues.

Polaris, however, doesn't seem to notice the tension of the situation and immediately wraps his arms around one of my legs. "Uncle Al!" he exclaims, sliding down my leg awkwardly. "I missed you!"

"Po, I said to stop hanging off of people," Lily nags, looking annoyed with the little boy. "Uncle Albus doesn't like that."

"It's okay, Lils," I say, grabbing the little blonde boy up and lifting him into a hug. "No harm done."

"Lookie Uncle Al, I got a loose tooth!" Polaris immediately informs me after I've hugged him. He wiggles it with his tongue in front of my face.

"Wow, that's awesome, Po! As soon as that comes out, you'll get some sickles from the tooth fairy!"

"I know!" he says, wiggling excitedly in my arms and smiling with a toothy grin. "I'm gonna wiggle it all day so it falls out!"

Dad chuckles lightly at this, causing everyone at the door to look at him. He ignores everyone but Polaris though and says with a smile, "You act just like your mother did when she was your age."

"You were alive when Mum was little?" Polaris asks Dad, wide-eyed and curious. That must seem like a very long time ago to him.

"Yes, I was," Dad says with a twinkle in his eye.

Polaris' face scrunches up oddly for a second. "Are you Harry Potter?"

Now, it's my turn to chuckle, as the boy asked me the very same question a few weeks ago. Being smart for a five year-old, Polaris could already recognize that both my father and I look like a very important celebrity.

"Yes, I am. I'm also-"

"Awesome!" Polaris shouts and immediately reaches for Dad, requesting that I pass him off to 'Harry Potter.' I go ahead and hand the boy over to my dad, who smiles quite brilliantly with the little platinum blonde boy in his arms.

"You're famous because you're always in the paper!" Po squeals with unadulterated adoration. "Mum says it's because you catch evil wizards and bring them to Azkaban and because you can play Quidditch better than anyone else in England and you defeated Voldemort when you were a kid!"

"It's something like that," Dad says, ruffling Po's hair a bit. It sticks up like Dad's and mine.

"Polaris, you need to call him 'Grandpa Harry,' okay? He's your grandpa," Lily clarifies sternly from in front of us.

"YOU'RE MY GRANDPA?! WOW! Will you take me flying like Grandpa Draco does? I LOVE FLYING! I EVEN BROUGHT MY OWN BROOM!" he squeals animatedly, squirming so much that Dad has to put him down to avoid dropping the little boy.

"You brought your broom?" questions Lily. "Accio Polaris' broom."

A child-sized broom jumps up from the yard and smacks her hand a moment later. She hands the broom over to the energetic little boy. "No flying anywhere adults can't see you, Po."

Polaris grabs Dad's hand, trying to pull him away. "Come show me your broom, Grandpa! I wanna see you fly!"

Dad smiles and lets himself be pulled into the yard as the little boy chatters away, excited to meet a celebrity.

An awkward silence ensues between me and the Malfoys. "Come on in," I say, motioning them to enter as I step away from the door.

Lily catches me in a half-hug as she enters our humble abode for the first time. My stomach tightens with emotion at this simple gesture—it's been so long since I had my sister's affection.

Right behind her is a tall, washed out man who has maintained his gangly teenage figure long past puberty. "Scorpius," I say, greeting him uncertainly. I still don't know how to feel about him being apart of my family in this way—how I feel about him throwing away my friendship so quickly when I really needed him.

I just don't know.

"Al," he replies with a nod, being careful not to jiggle his precious cargo. His pallid arms are holding a sleeping little girl with skin as pale as his own and adorable platinum blonde ringlets framing her face.

Sagitta, my niece, whom I've only seen in pictures up until this point.

At first glance, I can already tell how beautiful she is; she looks so much like Scorpius, with her narrow cheeks and the sprinkling of pale freckles across her nose.

"I'm surprised she's still asleep," I remark softly. "Polaris is quite a little character for his age."

"She's used to hearing him yell all the time," Scorpius replies. "She had a nightmare last night and then didn't get back to sleep until the crack of dawn. I'd let her rest somewhere while we talked, but I think she'd be afraid if she woke up in a strange room all by herself."

"You can lay her down on the couch in the next room while we eat—she'll be able to hear us and even see you if you sit on the far side of the table."

"Okay," he replies and follows me as I gesture him towards the correct room. I grab a throw pillow from a nearby chair and place it on the sofa for her head. I watch as Scorpius settles the small figure in and covers her with a blanket that he recently enlarged from his pocket.

He's very careful and gentle—it's very odd to see him in a fatherly role after knowing him for so long. He is very different from his own father though and seems to be much more open with his caring.

After he pats his little girl on the back, he stands up and looks at me tiredly. He doesn't know what to say; I don't either. I really don't.

In the window behind Scorpius, I spot my dad and Po zipping around on Dad's Firebolt—a classic broom at this point, but it still flies quite well because he's taken good care of it.

I walk over to the window to get a better view. Both of them have the goofiest smiles plastered to their faces as they make wickedly sharp turns in the air. Dad holds Polaris in place on the broom, just like he used to hold me and James—it looks like he's been flying with Po for years.

"They're having the time of their lives, aren't they?" I say quietly as Scorpius meanders over to my side.

He doesn't answer. We watch them in silence for a while before Scorpius finally breaks the silence. "Would it help if I apologized?"

I look down at my feet. "You wouldn't mean it-"

"But I do!" he says defensively.

"No, I mean you're not sorry for having your family, or at least, I hope you aren't. Your children are little treasures."

He sighs. "Al, I'm apologizing for choosing your sister over you when your family fell apart. I was young and I was in love—I thought she needed me more at the time. I was wrong though, I should have tried to do something to help-"

"Stop," I say, interrupting his blunt tirade. "It's done and it's in the past. What you did really hurt me back then, but… I just want to let it go now."

I don't say anything more; I don't have to. We are both already aware that things will never be the same between us again. After the incident, Scorpius chose my sister though and every choice has its consequences. He lost his best friend, just the way I lost mine.

It was so hard.

My mind momentarily drifts off to memories of us sneaking around Hogwarts, pretending like we were on the same grand adventures that our fathers experienced. I remember how we used to stay up late with our classmates and joke about knocks and knobs and then all of those times that James fire-called us on accident when he was totally pissed—those were good times.

I want to let it go.

Scorpius sighs. I look at him and see that he has a half-smile on his face.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I was just thinking... your dad and my dad are probably going to start competing for Po's attention," he says, looking a bit sly.

Rolling my eyes, I reply, "I'm sure you're right. Your dad will start it, but my dad has his pride and he'll refuse to let Draco win so easily."

We both snicker for a moment like teenagers. For a second, it's like things haven't changed. "Come on," I say, patting him strongly on the back. "Let's go see what Vivian is dishing up for us."

Together, we mosey into the kitchen and interrupt some sort of witch chat going on between my sister and Viv. They don't seem to mind too much though; Viv gives me a smile as bright as her flaming sunburn when we come in.

"Don't let this one go, Al—she's a keeper," Lily says, smiling for the first time today.

"I wasn't planning on it, Lils. That was the whole point of getting her to move in here, after all," I say, winking at Viv, who's carrying a pan of black pudding out to the kitchen table. There are also plates with rashers, eggs, and fried potatoes, all waiting for us.

Lily smiles. "What does Dad think of a woman living here and changing your bachelor lifestyle?"

I snort. "Dad loves Viv; I don't think he's going to miss bachelorhood any more than I will."

"Harry and I do get along rather well. I think the transition will be quite easy," Viv adds. "I'll go call them in for brunch."

As soon as Vivian has left the room, Lily comes close and softly talks through her teeth. "Why haven't you asked her to marry you yet? Haven't you waited long enough?"

"Lily, he's just taking it slow," Scorpius cuts in, helpfully. "Let him do this his way."

"If you wait too long she'll get away!" Lily hisses. "You need to take the next step-"

"They'll be along in a little bit," Vivian interrupts as she strolls back into the kitchen. "Grandpa Harry is in the middle of teaching Polaris some important Quidditch move and I don't think a thousand galleons could pull them out of the backyard at this point."

Lily rolls her eyes. My sister seems to have been replaced by a nagging wench. To her credit though, she does allow Dad and Po to stay outside playing Quidditch.

Even though there is still an awkward feeling around us, we gather at the table and start to pass the food around. The food tastes good though and everyone is quick to compliment Viv on her handiwork in the kitchen.

"How was your vacation, Albus? I heard this was the first one you took in quite some time…" Lily asks to break the silence.

"It was wonderful," I say, meaning it as my mind flashes back to lazy days on Turkish beaches with Viv laying by my side. I look at her and smile, squeezing her thigh gently under the table as I recall the wonderful time we had. "The beaches were amazing—white sand and clear blue water stretching as far as the eye can see. It didn't get terribly hot until the very end of the trip, either."

"Looks like your sunscreen potion didn't work," Scorpius comments, looking at Viv. "I have that problem too. I've been meaning to go and ask Severus if he knows how to make it stronger for people with extremely fair skin."

Lily snorts at the name. "I have to tell you Albus, James was talking to me the other day and he says that he is the only professor that your namesake's portrait talks to. He complained on and on about how much the portrait has been nagging him to come and see Dad—apparently, it even jumps from frame to frame and follows him around the castle after he teaches his Astronomy classes! I'd bet ten galleons that he'll be here within the next six months, if for no other reason than to get 'that damn portrait' off his back!" she exclaims, while doing a very good impression of James when he's annoyed.

Viv and I exchange a glance and smile. "That sounds like Severus, all right."

"Yes, he was quite a handful at the nursing home," Vivian tells our company with a somewhat stricken look on her face.

"A unique wizard though," I say softly, more to myself than to the table. "He had personality and power, more so than most everyone I've met."

I look down at my hands, feeling a bit sad for his loss. I knew it was coming, but it was still a bit of a shock when it happened and he was discovered in the Headmaster's Office.

I miss him.

Viv places her hand over mine and gently gives it a warm squeeze.

Merlin, I love her.

The moment is interrupted by the sound of two little feet tearing through the house at a break-neck speed. Polaris appears out of nowhere, his hair windblown and his face glowing with joy. He vaults up into a chair and grins at all of us, wiggling his loose tooth with his tongue.

Ah, the joys of youth.

A minute later, Dad shows up, looking just as winded as Po. He crosses behind the table, stopping to kiss Lily on the head and welcome her back. He also pats Scorpius on the back, even though I know Dad is less than thrilled at the idea of a Malfoy taking care of his daughter. The rivalry between him and Draco never quite ended and thus, it broke my dad's heart to see a picture of Draco walking Lily down the isle in the Daily Prophet.

I'm not sure that time can ever heal something like that. I'm not sure that we'll ever really feel comfortable with each other after all that has happened. Even though Lily's convinced, I'm still not certain that James will ever show his sorry face in front of Dad again.

We're trying though. For the first time in over 15 years, our family's dinner table is full. My best friend is sitting beside me again. My sister is smiling. Po is making faces and my dad is laughing. Even Sagitta, the youngest of the Malfoy clan, has planted herself on her father's lap and is nibbling at a rasher, her eyes curiously scanning this room full of strangers.

I'm in love and I'm sitting by the woman I'm someday going to marry. Nothing's perfect, but I never expected it to be. Today though, is the start of something new; the start of something good.

There's a light at the end of the tunnel…and I can't wait to see what's on the other side.

"_In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was within me an invincible summer."_

_-Albert Camus_

_The End._

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Wow, it's completed! Please take the time to review if you enjoyed this piece—I'd love to hear from you. If you didn't like, feel free to comment too. Anything that will help me improve my writing in the future would be fab.

All of the quotes came from and can be found under the "Suffering" category. This is a great quotation website and is highly recommended to those who enjoy quotes.

Many thanks go out once again to Obsidian Embrace, who betaed this entire fic. It wouldn't have been nearly as good without her. I also must thank wrappedinharry, who pointed out plot-holes to me, which also greatly improved the quality of the fic.

Finally, a HUGE thank you goes to my readers—your support keeps me smiling.

Keep your eyes peeled for my future projects, including a brand new one-shot Sevitus, the end of Her Secret Obsession, and possibly a novel-length Severitus challenge.

-P.G.


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